#and they just had to slap you with that description too :)

[bueckets]

The Hit List | 02

Pairing: fuckgirl!Paige x Mechi Student!reader

Masterlist (TBA) | Part One

Genre: romance, slow burn, enemies to lovers, kinda funny?, they fuck, n its hot n sweaty, cat n mouse

Description: What starts as a game of avoidance turns into something far more dangerous when old grudges and unfinished business crash headfirst into a truth neither of them are ready to face. Armed with a stubborn streak, a boyfriend you're trying too hard to believe in, and a simmering resentment that burns just as hot as desire, you swear you won’t let Paige win.

But when history keeps rewriting itself in glances, in touches, in words that cut too close—you start to wonder if you've had control of the game at all.

wc: 24k, yes, 24k

Authors Note: sorry this took forever, too many words so this is split into two parts

Chapter 2: The Problem with Paige Bueckers

The cold air hit like a slap as you and Riven stepped out of The Tavern, the double doors slamming shut behind you. The muffled bass of whatever trash pop remix they were playing inside still buzzed in your chest, but out here, the only sound was the occasional car rolling by and the crunch of Riven’s boots against the pavement.

“Okay,” she started, already wrapping her arms around herself like she hadn’t just spent the last hour insisting she wasn’t cold. “What the fuck was that?”

You tugged Nika’s warmup jacket closer around you. “What was what?”

“Oh, don’t even—” Riven whirled on you, walking backward now, eyes narrowed. “I had, like, a front-row seat to your little moment with Paige. You two looked like you were about five seconds away from—”

“From what?” you cut in, voice sharper than intended.

Riven’s smirk deepened. “From what, she says. Babe, I thought you were about to spontaneously combust. Paige definitely wanted to.”

You groaned, pushing past her. “You’re reading into things.”

“Am I?” She caught up easily, practically skipping now. “Because I watched a six-foot basketball legend—who, might I remind you, does not chase people—spend an entire game, a whole-ass four quarters, subtly showing off for you. Then she followed that up by pinning you to a bar with her eyes and making sure you knew she was looking.”

You kept walking. Focused on the sidewalk, on the way the streetlights flickered, on literally anything but what she was saying.

“And you?” Riven continued, undeterred. “You were eating it up.”

You stopped dead. “I was not—”

Riven held up a hand. “Babe. I love you. But you were.”

Her eyes softened then, shifting from teasing to something quieter. You hated that. Because if Riven wasn’t making fun of you, if she was actually serious, then it meant she thought there was something here.

You shook your head, exhaling hard. “I don’t even like her.”

Riven arched a brow. “No?”

“No.”

“And yet, you’re literally wearing her best friend’s jacket, which Paige has been glaring at all night like she was about to rip it off your body with her teeth.”

You rolled your eyes and started walking again. “Nika spilled coffee on me. She gave me the jacket.”

“Uh-huh.” Riven jogged to catch up. “And Paige definitely didn’t care about that at all. I’m sure that’s why she looked like she wanted to murder her best friend when she saw you in it.”

You ignored her.

She didn’t let up. “You know what I think?”

“No,” you deadpanned.

“I think Paige is used to being wanted. She is thee Golden Child after all.” Riven adjusted her tiny bag, the one you still didn’t believe could fit anything. “And you? You told her to fuck off. You didn’t fawn, didn’t trip over yourself to impress her, didn’t melt the second she so much as breathed in your direction.”

“I was just—”

“She likes it.”

You faltered. “What?”

“That’s why she’s been all over you.” Riven grinned like she’d cracked some unsolvable mystery. “You’re a challenge, babe. Paige loves a challenge.”

You let that sit between you for a moment. The idea that this was all just some game to her. Some chase, some conquest to check off her list.

It shouldn’t sting. But it did.

You kicked at a loose pebble, watching it skitter across the sidewalk. “Well, I’m not playing.”

Riven let out a low whistle. “And that is why she’s losing her mind over you.”

She looped her arm through yours, sighing dramatically. “I love this for you.”

You groaned. “There’s nothing to love. I’m not interested.”

Riven squeezed your arm. “Mhm. And yet, we’ve been talking about her this entire walk home.”

You scowled. She had a point.

The first thing you did when you woke up was groan, roll over, and aggressively smother yourself with your pillow in a last-ditch effort to erase the past twelve hours from existence.

The second thing you did was curse Riven’s name.

I love this for you. What the fuck did that even mean? What was there to love? There was nothing to love, nothing to even consider, and yet your brain had apparently decided to throw hands with your common sense and keep you trapped in this hell loop of overanalyzing.

You stayed like that for a solid ten minutes, letting the residual embarrassment simmer in the dark, trying to physically sweat out the memory of Paige fucking Bueckers pinning you in place with her eyes and her stupid, low-ass voice.

Nope. No. Absolutely not. You were not thinking about it. You had actual things to do.

You shoved the blanket off and sat up, only for your stomach to immediately drop as your gaze landed on Nika’s UConn warmup jacket.

Right. That.

You stared at it, like it was some foreign object that had somehow materialized in your room overnight. As if it hadn’t been on your body the entire night before. As if it hadn’t been the one thing Paige’s eyes lingered on every time she looked at you.

Okay. You exhaled sharply. Okay. You needed to get the fuck out of this room.

The engineering building smelled like burnt coffee and overworked students.

Someone had definitely been living in here for the past forty-eight hours—probably one of the electrical engineering kids judging by the faint, fried-plastic scent of a blown capacitor. A couple of jackets were draped over chairs, a half-eaten protein bar had been abandoned by the 3D printer, and the whiteboard by the entrance was filled with someone’s increasingly desperate attempts at debugging a circuit diagram.

Ah, yes. Your people.

You exhaled, shifting your backpack higher on your shoulder as you made your way toward the CAD lab. The familiar hum of computer fans filled the air, that gentle, artificial whir that meant someone, somewhere, was probably suffering through a last-minute deadline.

Not you, though. You were here to escape.

The lab was half-full, a quiet buzz of activity punctuated by the occasional sigh of frustration. A couple of upperclassmen were arguing over a simulation in the corner, their screen flashing red with failed stress tests. Someone else—definitely a freshman—was furiously Googling “why does SOLIDWORKS keep crashing???” like the software had personally wronged them.

You picked a station near the back, dropped your bag onto the floor, and cracked your knuckles.

Alright. Time to work.

You opened your laptop, pulled up your latest model—a sleek, mid-development turbine assembly—and tried to focus.

For the first few minutes, it actually worked. The soothing, mind-numbing repetition of part alignments, constraint settings, and torque calculations took over. You could feel your brain settling into that comfortable, hyper-focused haze.

And then—

“Jesus Christ, what is this?”

You didn’t even look up. “It’s a turbine.”

“That’s a turbine?”

The voice belonged to Mateo, one of the mechanical engineers who had, at some point, decided that annoying you was his life’s goal.

He dragged a chair over, plopping down beside you with his usual chaotic energy. His UConn hoodie was inside out, his curls were aggressively disheveled, and his glasses were smudged enough to qualify as a safety hazard.

“You’re staring at it like it personally offended you,” you muttered, rotating the model on your screen.

Mateo squinted. “Because it has personally offended me. Why the hell does it look like that?”

You turned, deadpan. “Would you like to rephrase that into something remotely helpful?”

He hummed, leaning in. “Maybe. Depends on how much caffeine you’ve had.”

You sighed, shoving your coffee cup toward him. He took one sip and immediately made a face.

“This is disgusting.”

You stole your coffee back. “It’s functional.”

“That’s what people say about Soviet-era aircrafts, and half of those are held together by sheer willpower and duct tape.”

You ignored him, going back to your model. “You’re still here. Please tell me why you’re still here?”

Mateo stretched, cracking his back like an eighty-year-old man. “Because I finished my project and now I’m bored.”

You arched a brow. “So this is what you do for fun? Bully me about my designs?”

“Absolutely.” He propped his chin on his hand, watching you work. “Also, because your roommate texted me last night saying you needed to ‘touch grass,’ which in Riven language means you’ve been weird lately.”

You froze.

Fucking Riven.

Mateo caught it immediately. His smirk widened. “Oh? So tell me what’s up?”

You shook your head, clicking aggressively through your model constraints. “Nothing.”

“Liar. Is it a boy?”

You snorted. “No.”

“A girl?”

You paused just long enough for his eyes to light up.

“Ohhh, it is a girl.” He grinned, leaning in like you’d just handed him the best gossip of his life. “Spill. Who is she?”

You shoved him. “Go away.”

Mateo cackled. “No chance. What’s her name? Is she hot? Do I know her?”

You shut your laptop. “Fuck off.”

Mateo, absolutely unbothered, just draped himself over the back of your chair. “C’mon. You never get weird about people, so this must be juicy.”

“It’s not,” you gritted out, standing up and grabbing your bag.

Mateo raised a brow. “Where are you going?”

“Anywhere that isn’t here.”

“You know running away only makes me more curious, right?”

You flipped him off over your shoulder as you left.

Mateo just laughed.

It was a flawless, textbook-perfect fucking setup. The one time you leave the lab, take a detour for some overpriced caffeine, and try to get some damn distance from this whole situation—and there she is.

Like a curse.

You saw her before she saw you. A rare, fleeting advantage, considering Paige had the court vision of a goddamn military drone.

She was standing near the library steps, mid-conversation with some girl you didn’t recognize.

And, of course, she was leaning. Paige Bueckers didn’t just stand like a normal person. No, she had to do the casual, just-effortless-enough tilt, one hand gripping the strap of her UConn backpack like she was seconds away from swinging it over her shoulder in slow-motion, Nike-ad perfection.

And she was smiling.

That smile—the one that had probably ruined lives– specifically, your life.. The practiced, easy, disarmingly charming one. The dangerous one.

Your stomach twisted.

You should keep walking. It would be so easy. Just turn left, duck into the coffee shop, pretend you never saw her.

But something in you hesitated.

Because Paige wasn’t just talking to anyone. She was talking to some other girl.

Fucking hell.

It was so stupid. So petty. So utterly beneath you. But for some reason, the sight of her standing there—effortlessly charismatic, completely at ease—was irritating.

And then it got worse.

Because right as you were about to turn away, Paige’s gaze lifted.

Locked directly onto you.

And something in her changed.

It was so quick, so minuscule that anyone else wouldn’t have noticed. But you did. Because you’d spent the past two days doing everything in your power not to notice her, and yet here you were, catching every fucking detail.

The slight shift in her posture.

The way her smirk faltered, just a fraction.

The way her grip on her bag tightened.

Your fingers curled around the strap of your own backpack, a reflexive, useless attempt at grounding yourself.

Walk away.

But you didn’t.

You stood there, frozen in this stupid fucking moment, as Paige’s attention flicked back to the girl she was talking to—only to immediately pull away.

And then she was moving.

Striding over like this was some kind of inevitable gravitational force. Like she knew you weren’t going to leave.

Your pulse kicked up, but you forced yourself to stay still, forced yourself to act bored when she finally stopped in front of you.

Her voice hit first, low and teasing, but with something else under it. “Didn’t know you were into weekend library runs.”

You exhaled sharply, shifting your weight. “Didn’t know you were into casual sidewalk flirting, or studying.”

Paige’s smirk deepened. “Why, jealous?”

Oh, you were going to strangle her.

“I literally do not care.”

She hummed, tilting her head slightly. “You sound like you care.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, fixing her with a flat look. “Do you just walk around looking for people to harass, or am I just special?”

Paige took another step closer. You held your ground.

“I dunno,” she murmured. “You do seem pretty special.”

Your heart stuttered.

No. Nope. Fucking no.

You weren’t playing this game. You weren’t going to stand here and let her look at you like that—like she was trying to pick you apart, like she was actually intrigued.

You stepped back, shaking your head. “Enjoy your fan club, Bueckers.”

You turned to leave.

Paige’s voice followed. Low. Confident. Amused.

“You’re cute when you’re pissed.”

You didn’t stop walking. Didn’t look back. Didn’t let her see the way your entire fucking body was burning.

But you heard her chuckle.

And somehow, that was worse.

But that wasn’t the end of it.

You should have kept going. Walked straight to the coffee shop, ordered something completely overpriced, and buried yourself in caffeine and denial.

But you weren’t that lucky.

Because the second you stepped inside, the scent of espresso and baked goods barely had time to hit you before—

“Wow.”

You knew that voice.

You closed your eyes, inhaling deeply, willing the universe to smite you.

It did not.

Because when you opened them again, Paige was right behind you.

“What are you doing?” you muttered, stepping forward to put space between you.

Paige slid her hands into her hoodie pocket, exuding pure, infuriating amusement. “Getting coffee.”

You turned, narrowing your eyes. “You weren’t even going this way.”

She shrugged. “Changed my mind.”

Jesus Christ.

You groaned, turning back toward the counter. “Whatever.”

The barista—a slightly overwhelmed-looking sophomore named Jordan, who you’d spoken to maybe twice before—perked up at the sight of Paige.

“Oh, hey! I didn’t know you came here.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course.

Paige flashed her that same easy, heartbreaker smile. “Yeah, thought I’d try something new today.”

Her eyes flicked to you as she said it. You clenched your jaw, and ignored her.

Jordan, oblivious, beamed. “What can I get you?”

Paige didn’t even hesitate. “I’ll have whatever she’s having.”

Oh.

You turned, slowly.

Paige just looked back at you, smirk still in place.

“Fine,” you said, voice tight. “I’ll have your strongest black coffee.”

Jordan blinked. “Wait, really?”

You gave her a look. “Yes?”

She hesitated. “I mean… I just… you always get the caramel cold brew.”

Shit.

Paige grinned.

“Well,” you said, crossing your arms. “Maybe I wanted to try something new.”

Paige laughed.

Actually laughed.

Full, delighted, genuine amusement.

“Oh,” she said, still smirking, “I love this.”

You clenched your fists. “I hate you.”

“See, now that’s not true.”

You turned away, absolutely done with this interaction, already regretting ever leaving the lab.

You paid for your coffee, pointedly ignoring Paige as she paid for hers, and practically snatched the cup from Jordan when it was ready.

You had exactly two steps of peace before—

“So,” Paige said, matching your pace as you headed for the door, “should I be worried?”

You shot her a look. “About what?”

“The fact that you just ordered a black coffee.”

You exhaled sharply. “Maybe I just like black coffee.”

Paige hummed, taking a sip of her own. You watched her expression shift immediately.

“Oh, this is disgusting.”

You snorted, unable to stop it in time.

Paige, victorious, just smiled. “See? I knew you were full of shit.”

You shook your head, pushing the door open and stepping outside. Paige followed, still sipping at her awful coffee like she was suffering on purpose.

And then, finally, mercifully, she stopped walking.

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll let you go.”

You frowned. “What?”

Paige’s smirk returned. “I mean, unless you want me to keep following you.”

You scoffed. “Oh my God. Leave.”

Paige chuckled, stepping back, lifting her hands in mock surrender.

“Later, library girl.”

You didn’t look back.

But you felt her watching. And somehow, that was worse.

You had a plan.

It was simple.

Step 1: Bury yourself in engineering work.

Step 2: Avoid places where you might run into her.

Step 3: Erase all thoughts of Paige Bueckers from your mind.

Step 1 was going great. You were practically living in the engineering building, hammering through assignments, working ahead just for the hell of it. At this rate, you’d graduate two semesters early and have a job lined up at NASA before winter break.

Step 2, however, was failing miserably.

Because no matter how much you tried to avoid her, Paige Bueckers was everywhere.

In the hall, where you caught glimpses of her and her teammates from the corner of your eye.

In the student center, where people were casually talking about her like she was a campus landmark.

Even in your own goddamn dreams, which was the worst part because now, even when you were asleep, you weren’t free from this mess.

And it wasn’t like they were even good dreams. No steamy forbidden fantasies, no sweaty, tangled sheets, breathless, what the fuck are we doing? moments. No. You weren’t that lucky.

Instead, your brain kept feeding you annoying things. Paige standing too close. Paige smirking. Paige looking at you like she knew something you didn’t.

Which meant you were waking up pissed off for no reason, which meant Riven noticed, which meant—

“Let me set you up with someone.”

You blinked, looking up from your laptop. “What?”

Riven was sitting across from you in the student lounge, sipping on some overpriced, sugar-filled coffee monstrosity. “I said, let me set you up.”

You scoffed, going back to your screen. “Why?”

“Because you’re weird right now,” she said, gesturing vaguely at you. “All tense and broody. It’s stressing me out.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m literally just doing my work.”

“Exactly.” She leaned forward, squinting at your screen. “You’ve been too productive. It’s unnatural.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re avoiding Paige.”

Your fingers paused on the keyboard for half a second, but that was all she needed.

Riven grinned, victorious. “So let me set you up with someone.”

You sighed, shutting your laptop. “That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard.”

“Or the smartest.”

“No.”

She ignored you, pulling out her phone. “I mean, you have options. There’s that guy from your statics class who’s obsessed with you—”

“Absolutely not.”

“Okay, what about Aisha? She’s cute, pre-med, has her life together—”

“She has a girlfriend.”

Riven waved a hand. “Okay, but, like, not a great one—”

“I cannot believe you right now.”

“Fine, fine.” She scrolled through her phone. “Oooh, what about Kevin?”

You gave her a flat look. “Kevin who works at the bookstore?”

“Yeah! He’s sweet. And tall.”

“He tried to sell me a book on manifesting your dream life when I asked for a fluid dynamics textbook.”

Riven paused. “Okay, yeah, that’s a little concerning.”

You shook your head, leaning back. “Why are you so determined to throw me at random people?”

She tilted her head. “Because it’s fun.”

You groaned.

“And,” she added, more carefully, “because it might help.”

You frowned. “Help what?”

She gave you a look. “Come on.”

You exhaled through your nose, staring down at your coffee.

Riven didn’t push. Just let the silence sit for a beat before nudging your knee under the table. “I’ll stop. For now.”

You looked up. “Thank you.”

She grinned. “But only if you come to this party with me on Saturday.”

You groaned. “Riven—”

“It’ll be fun. And guess who’s gonna be there?”

You already knew.

You closed your eyes. “I hate you.”

She sipped her drink. “Love you too, babe.”

You had approximately zero interest in going to this party.

It wasn’t that you were a hermit—you liked going out, sometimes, in controlled settings where you knew exactly what to expect. But parties like this? Loud, crowded, packed with people you barely knew and didn’t want to? No thanks.

And yet, here you were.

Still sitting on the edge of your bed, not getting ready, scrolling through your phone while your unread texts from Riven multiplied like fruit flies.

r u alive

do i need to come drag u by the hair

i will btw

wear something hot

but not like slutty hot like u just threw it on w/out trying hot

like effortless “oops i didn’t mean to be the hottest person here” hot

also ur wearing eyeliner

You groaned, dropping your phone onto your comforter.

A normal person would just say no. Would just text back not feeling it tonight and call it a day.

But Riven?

Riven would actually show up, bang on your door, and physically escort you to this goddamn party like a security detail on a mission.

So now you had a choice:

1. Give in and get ready.

2. Wait for Riven to bust in here like a one-woman SWAT team and drag you there herself.

Neither option was appealing, but at least the first one gave you some control.

You exhaled sharply, standing up. Fine. Fine. You’d go.

But you weren’t doing this for fun. You were doing it to get Riven off your ass, to make an appearance, to grab a drink, stay for a reasonable amount of time, and then leave before you got roped into something stupid.

You shuffled over to your dresser, opening the top drawer without thinking—and then immediately stopped short.

Because sitting there, right on top, was Nika’s UConn warmup jacket.

The one Paige had glared holes into the last time you wore it.

Your fingers hovered over the fabric for a second. Just long enough for the memory to crawl back into your head—Paige, watching you from across the bar, her expression unreadable but sharp.

It’s just a jacket.

You shook your head, grabbed something else, and shoved the drawer shut.

You were not playing this game.

It was cold, but not cold enough to justify a full winter coat. Just that irritating in-between weather where the air had a bite to it, but not enough to make you commit to layers.

The sidewalks were slick from the rain earlier, puddles reflecting the glow of streetlights. Music spilled out from different houses, some of them throwing smaller, more manageable kickbacks. You briefly considered bailing and going to one of those instead—just slipping into a different party and texting Riven oops, wrong address—but she’d see right through that shit.

So you kept walking, arms crossed against the chill, running through worst-case scenarios in your head.

You’ll get there, it’ll be loud, it’ll be annoying, you’ll get stuck in some awful small talk with people you barely like—

“Hey.”

You startled, glancing up.

Some guy had fallen into step beside you, hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets.

You blinked. “Do I know you?”

He grinned, easy and unbothered. “Nah. But we’re both heading the same way, so I figured I’d say hi.”

You hesitated.

It wasn’t weird, exactly. People did this all the time—especially guys, who had that weird confidence of assuming you’d be fine with their company.

And maybe it wasn’t the worst thing. Maybe if you got caught up in conversation with literally anyone, it would keep you distracted from the nagging feeling in your gut about this whole night.

So you shrugged. “Alright. Hi.”

He laughed. “Wow, that was enthusiastic.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no actual bite behind it. “You always introduce yourself to strangers walking alone at night?”

“Only the hot ones.”

You huffed a laugh. Oh, Jesus.

There was something oddly comforting about this kind of flirting—the casual, throwaway kind. Not serious, not tangled in anything complicated. Just light, meaningless words tossed into the cold night air.

It was easy.

And easy was exactly what you needed.

“Are you always this smooth?” you asked, raising a brow.

He grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “You tell me.”

Before you could respond, a sudden beep cut through the night.

Your phone. Riven.

where r u

it’s been 7 min i am timing u

u better not be dragging ur feet

i swear 2 god if ur pulling a fast one on me

You sighed, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “I’m about to get yelled at.”

The guy laughed. “Friend blowing up your phone?”

“Something like that.”

“Guess that means I won’t have you all to myself, huh?”

You snorted. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Eli.” He shot you a sideways glance. “And now you do.”

You just shook your head, amused despite yourself.

Maybe this night wouldn’t be a total disaster.

The walk over is quiet. Not awkward, but not quite comfortable either. Eli’s hands are shoved into the pockets of his jacket, shoulders hunched slightly against the chill, his breath fogging in the dark as he keeps pace beside you.

The street is mostly empty, save for the distant sound of laughter and the faint hum of music seeping through the trees, growing louder with each step.

“So,” he finally says, tilting his head toward you. “You party much?”

You let out a dry laugh. “Not really.”

“Yeah, you don’t seem like the type.”

You raise a brow, glancing over at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Eli grins, kicking a loose rock down the sidewalk. “Dunno. You seem more like the… stay-at-home-and-watch-true-crime-docs type.”

You scoff. “That’s oddly specific.”

“Am I wrong?”

You don’t answer, but your silence is enough of one.

He laughs, shaking his head. “I knew it.”

The music swells as you round the corner, the UConn house coming into view. People are already spilling onto the lawn, drinks in hand, voices raised over the thumping bass. Someone’s perched on the hood of a car, cigarette dangling between their fingers, while a group is gathered around the porch, deep in some animated conversation that none of them will remember in the morning.

You exhale slowly, rolling your shoulders. The night stretches before you, unknown and electric, waiting.

“Welp,” Eli says, slowing his steps, his eyes scanning the crowd. “Guess this is us.”

You nod, barely glancing at him. “Yeah, guess so.”

And then you leave him.

You don’t say goodbye, don’t offer a parting glance. Just slip past the first cluster of people, stepping into the thick of the party, into the heat, into the house.

Inside, the air is thick—warm and suffocating, a mix of sweat and perfume and alcohol. The bass vibrates through the floorboards, through your ribs, as bodies move against each other, laughter and shouted conversations tangling together into a messy, chaotic hum.

You push forward, barely a few steps in when—

“There you are.”

A hand grabs your wrist, sharp nails digging into your skin just enough to make you wince before you’re being tugged to the side.

Riven.

She looks immaculate as always—makeup untouched by the humidity, dress clinging perfectly to her frame, her lips stained red from whatever drink she’s been nursing.

She eyes you, head tilting. “Took you long enough.”

“I wasn’t—” You hesitate. “I walked here.”

She snorts. “What, alone?”

“No. Some guy. Eli, I think.”

Riven’s expression flickers with interest. “Eli?”

“Yeah, tall, kinda awkward, basketball?” You shrug, not really caring.

“Huh.” She takes a sip of her drink, eyes scanning the crowd. “You just met him and he walked you here?”

“Guess so.”

She smirks. “Cute.”

You roll your eyes. “Didn’t exactly work out for him.”

Riven grins. “Ice cold.”

You open your mouth to respond, but she’s already linking her arm through yours, pulling you deeper into the house.

“Come on. You need a drink.”

The kitchen is a mess of half-empty bottles and red plastic cups, condensation pooling on the scratched wooden counter. The air is thick with the scent of spilled liquor and citrus, the sharp tang of tequila mingling with something fruity—jungle juice, probably, the kind that tastes like candy but hits like a train.

Riven slides in ahead of you, maneuvering through the crowd like she’s been here a hundred times, which, knowing her, she probably has. The confidence in the way she moves makes her impossible to lose, even in the crush of people.

“Alright,” she announces, scanning the counter like it’s a display case. “What’s your poison?”

You hesitate. You’re not much of a drinker—never have been—but tonight feels like it demands something stronger than your usual caution.

“Something not disgusting,” you say, eyeing the sticky countertop, where remnants of past spills glisten under the dim kitchen light.

Riven hums, reaching for a bottle of vodka and some kind of mixer you don’t recognize. “Not disgusting is subjective.” She pours with a practiced hand, tipping the cup toward you once she’s done. “Try this.”

You take a sip. It’s sweet, deceptively smooth, the alcohol buried just enough to be dangerous.

“Not bad,” you admit.

Riven smirks. “You’re welcome.”

The music shifts, the bass vibrating through the walls, through your ribs. People move in and out of the kitchen, laughing, shouting, their voices blending into a haze of noise. The heat of the room is different from the living room—more claustrophobic, the air saturated with liquor and sweat, with the sticky-sweet scent of someone’s perfume, too strong, too cloying.

You lean back against the counter, tipping your cup against your lips, letting the alcohol settle in, loosen something in your limbs.

And then you see her.

Paige.

She’s on the other side of the kitchen, leaning against the counter with the kind of effortless ease that makes your stomach clench. One hand curled around a drink, fingers loose, relaxed. Her other arm draped along the counter, casual but intentional.

The girl next to her is tucked into the space at her side, one hip pressed against the counter, her body angled in, close.

Too close.

Your grip tightens around your cup.

The lighting in the kitchen is dim, but it catches on Paige’s features just right, casting shadows across the sharp cut of her jaw, the slope of her nose. Her expression is unreadable, but her focus is locked.

She’s looking at the girl like she’s the only person in the room.

Something tightens in your chest.

You shouldn’t be watching. You shouldn’t care.

Yet, here you are. Doing exactly that.

The girl tilts her head, lips painted in something dark, teasing at the rim of her cup as she speaks, voice lost in the thrum of the party.

Paige listens, eyes half-lidded, her mouth curling just slightly at the edges. It’s a look you recognize, one you’ve seen before—lazy, amused, locked in. The kind of look that says I already know how this ends.

The kind of look that says I want you.

Your stomach flips.

The girl shifts, closing the space between them, fingers brushing against Paige’s wrist, trailing lightly, suggestively. Paige doesn’t move away.

If anything, she leans in.

The room is too hot. The air too thick, pressing in around you, suffocating.

You take a step back, but there’s nowhere to go. Your back is already against the counter, your drink clutched too tightly in your hand. You can still see them—Paige’s fingers curling loosely around the girl’s waist, the slight tilt of her head, the way her mouth parts, the way the girl smiles.

Like she knows she’s got her.

Like she knows Paige isn’t going anywhere.

A fresh wave of nausea rolls through you.

You should look away. You should walk away.

But you don’t. You never ddo.

You watch as the girl leans in, her lips brushing just shy of Paige’s jaw, as if testing the waters. Paige doesn’t pull back.

She just watches, lets it happen, lets the girl push closer, lets her fingers slide against the hem of her shirt, teasing at the space just beneath.

It makes you sick.

You can’t fucking breathe.

Something ugly claws its way up your throat, something you don’t want to name, something bitter and raw.

You turn sharply, reaching for the vodka, pouring more into your cup than is remotely reasonable. The liquid sloshes over the rim, drips onto your fingers, and you barely feel it.

“Whoa,” Riven says, raising a brow. “Thirsty?”

You don’t answer. Just mix it with whatever’s closest, something orange, something fizzy.

You down half of it in one go.

It burns, but not enough.

Nothing is enough.

Riven watches you, her gaze sharp, calculating. “You good?”

“Fine,” you say, too quickly.

“Uh-huh.” She doesn’t sound convinced.

But you don’t give her time to question it.

You grab her hand, pulling her toward the living room, toward the noise, toward the crowd, toward anything that isn’t Paige and that girl, locked in, locked together, about to—

No.

The liquor hums in your veins, warm and reckless, dulling the sharp edges of your thoughts. The music has taken over everything—the bass pounding through the floor, through your chest, drowning out the lingering echoes of Paige and that girl.

Fuck her.

Fuck all of it.

You let yourself sink into the crowd, into the tangle of bodies moving with the music, the heat, the chaos of it all. The world tilts slightly, but in a way that feels good, in a way that makes you feel untouchable, weightless.

Riven is right there beside you, her laughter bright, her hands tugging at your wrist, spinning you in circles, hyping you up like she lives for this. And maybe she does. Maybe this is her element, but right now, it’s yours too.

You throw your head back, let your hands lift into the air, let the rhythm take over, shaking loose every lingering thought.

Someone grabs your waist.

You don’t flinch, don’t tense—just let it happen, rolling with the movement, letting yourself press back into the warmth behind you.

She’s soft, her body moving fluidly against yours, her hands confident as they slide along your hips, fitting into the moment like she’s supposed to be there.

You don’t think.

You just move.

Her perfume is sweet, her breath warm as she leans in, murmuring something that you don’t hear, don’t need to hear. It’s all instinct, all impulse, all the heat of the night pulling you deeper.

Her fingers trace slow, teasing patterns over your stomach where your top rides up, and it’s easy, so fucking easy, to let her do it. To let her hands wander, to let her lips ghost along your jaw, to tilt your head just so, letting her pull you in.

And then you’re kissing her.

It’s messy, all teeth and liquor and heat, her hands tangled in your hair, yours gripping the back of her neck, nails scraping against skin.

You don’t know her name.

You don’t care.

She tastes like rum, like something syrupy sweet, and you let yourself get lost in it, let yourself drink it in like it’ll burn away everything else.

Like it’ll erase the image of Paige leaning against that counter, her head tilted, her mouth open just enough—

No.

You deepen the kiss, swallow down the thought, let the music swallow you whole.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, don’t know how many songs bleed together before you finally break apart, breathless and flushed, her lipstick smudged against your mouth, your fingers still curled in her shirt.

She leans in, murmurs something into your ear—maybe a name, maybe a suggestion—but you’re already pulling away, already laughing, already shaking your head.

"Bathroom," you say, your voice thick with liquor and heat.

She pouts but lets you go, her fingers lingering on your wrist before she disappears back into the crowd.

The second you step away, the world tilts again, and you brace yourself against the edge of the wall, blinking hard, forcing the party back into focus.

Shit. You really have to pee.

You push through the crowd, past the blur of faces, past the too-loud conversations, past the couples pressed into dark corners, whispering things meant only for each other.

The hallway leading to the bathroom is a little less chaotic, though someone’s already passed out against the wall, their head slumped forward, their drink tipped over onto the carpet.

You slip past them, knocking twice on the bathroom door.

Silence.

You try the handle.

It opens.

You stumble inside, shutting the door behind you with a quiet click.

The house is still shaking around you, but in here, it’s muffled, distant.

You catch sight of yourself in the mirror—flushed, lips a little swollen, pupils blown wide from the alcohol, from the dancing, from everything.

You look different.

Or maybe you just feel different.

You shake it off, stepping forward, gripping the sink to steady yourself before finally doing what you came in here to do.

You need a minute before you go back out there, before the night drags you under again.

You splash cold water on your face, blinking hard at your reflection, trying to ground yourself. The alcohol is still warm in your blood, making everything feel hazy at the edges, but at least the dizziness has settled. The bass rattles through the floor, muffled by the walls, and you press your palms against the counter, exhaling slowly.

You should go back out there.

Find Riven. Get another drink. Keep losing yourself in the night, in the bodies, in the heat, in anything that isn’t the thought of—

No.

You grab a paper towel, blotting your face, and then pull open the bathroom door, stepping back into the dimly lit hallway.

And promptly walk straight into someone’s chest.

“Watch it,” you mutter, barely glancing up, pushing past, your mind already elsewhere.

But the second you take a step, fingers wrap around your wrist—firm, but not rough—and you stiffen.

You know who it is before you even look

“Jesus, relax,” she drawls, her grip loosening but not quite letting go. “Didn’t know you were so touchy.”

You yank your arm free, scowling. “What do you want?”

She tilts her head, looking at you too closely, like she’s trying to read something off your skin. The hallway is dark, but not dark enough to miss the way her gaze flickers downward—your lips, your jaw, the smudges of lipstick that aren’t yours.

Her mouth curves slightly. “Have fun out there?”

Your stomach turns.

You don’t answer.

Her smirk deepens. “She looked pretty into it.”

You scoff, stepping back, ready to shove past her and end this entire conversation before it even begins, but—

She shifts, blocking your path.

“Move,” you snap.

She doesn’t.

Instead, she leans in, voice dropping, a lazy smirk still tugging at her lips. “What are you running from?”

You want to hit her.

Or kiss her.

Or throw your drink in her face.

You do none of those things.

Instead, you shove at her shoulder, forcing your way past, and for a second—just a second—you think you’ve won.

Then you feel her hand at your back.

Not grabbing, not pulling, just pressing. A guiding touch. A challenge.

And you don’t know how it happens—whether she pushes you, or you push her, or maybe you both move at the same time—but suddenly, you’re stumbling through a doorway, into a small, dimly lit room, and the door swings shut behind you.

Hard.

The click of the latch echoes.

You whirl around, already reaching for the handle, twisting—

It doesn’t budge.

You twist again.

Nothing.

Paige sighs behind you. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

You shoot her a glare over your shoulder. “You locked us in here?”

She crosses her arms, looking entirely too unbothered. “It was open when we walked in.”

You yank at the handle again, harder this time, but it doesn’t give.

Panic prickles at the edges of your thoughts.

You turn, scanning the room properly now. A washing machine, a dryer, shelves lined with detergent and fabric softener, a wire basket overflowing with mismatched socks. The UConn house laundry room.

And no windows.

“No, no, no—” You twist the handle again. “It can’t be locked.”

Paige makes a noise, unimpressed, and leans back against the dryer, pulling out her phone. “Guess we’re stuck.”

Your head snaps up.

“You have your phone?”

She smirks, tapping at the screen. “I do.”

You hold out your hand. “Give it to me.”

Her brows lift, amused. “You don’t even say please?”

You exhale sharply, patience hanging by a thread. “Paige.”

She tsks, slipping the phone into her palm, staring at the screen. “Hmm. So many unread messages…”

You take a step forward, holding out your hand again. “Just call someone and get us out.”

Paige’s smirk deepens. “Or…” She pushes off the dryer, stepping closer, holding her phone just out of reach, “…I could make you ask nicely.”

You stare at her.

Then, without thinking, you lunge.

Your fingers brush the edge of the phone, but she’s faster—because of course she is—and she lifts it, jerking it up, holding it above her head, just out of your reach.

Your jaw tightens.

She grins. “What’s wrong?”

You glare at her. “Give me the fucking phone.”

She raises it higher, tilting her head in mock sympathy. “Oh, is that too tall for you?”

Your blood boils.

You take another step forward, reaching again, but she moves too—effortless, smooth, stepping back just enough to keep you from grabbing it.

“You are such an asshole,” you seethe.

She chuckles, tucking her phone onto the tallest shelf beside her. “And yet, you’re the one who followed me in here.”

You groan, running a hand down your face. “I did not—”

“You did.”

“I was trying to leave.”

“And now you can’t.”

You close your eyes, inhaling deeply. Do not strangle her. You will go to jail. Focus.

When you look at her again, she’s still smirking, still so goddamn pleased with herself, like she hasn’t just trapped you in a room with her.

Like she isn’t the exact thing you were trying to avoid.

Like she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing to you.

Fuck.

The air in the laundry room is thick. Too warm. Too close. The scent of detergent lingers beneath the musk of the party outside, a mix of something clean and something tainted—the ghosts of cheap vodka, sweat, and everything you don’t want to think about right now.

Paige leans against the dryer like she has nowhere better to be, arms crossed, expression lazy, infuriating. Her phone is still perched on the highest shelf, glowing faintly, unread messages stacking up.

You don’t look at it.

You look at her.

And that’s a mistake.

Because she’s watching you, waiting, and there’s something smug about the way she’s standing there, something that makes your pulse thrum harder than it should.

Your nails dig into your palm. “You gonna call someone, or are we just gonna sit here all night?”

She exhales, long-suffering, tilting her head. “I don’t know, you seem really worked up. Maybe I should let you cool off first.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, fuck off, Paige.”

Her smirk sharpens. “Touchy tonight.”

You scowl, turning away from her, pressing your hands against the washer, gripping the cool metal like it might steady you. It doesn’t.

“You’re the one who locked us in here,” you mutter, half to yourself.

She snorts. “I didn’t lock the fucking door.”

You don’t care. You don’t care about the door, about her stupid phone, about the way the heat of her body radiates behind you like she’s not even touching you but still somehow too close.

You care about what you saw in the kitchen.

The girl. The way Paige looked at her. The way Paige leaned in, just close enough—

Your fingers curl into a fist.

“Shouldn’t you be back out there?” Your voice is tight, sharp, dripping with something you don’t want to name. “Looked like you had plans.”

Paige doesn’t answer right away.

You don’t turn to look at her, but you can feel her reaction, feel the air shift, her smirk stretching, lazy and knowing.

“Ah,” she exhales, dragging out the sound. “So that’s what this is about.”

Your jaw tightens. “It’s not about anything.”

She hums, low and amused. “Mmhmm.”

She moves before you can brace for it, stepping into your space—not touching, but just enough to make you feel her there, the heat of her, the weight of her attention pressing against your skin.

Your breath catches.

You force yourself to focus on the washer, the wall, the tiny flickering light in the corner of the room. Anything but her.

Paige doesn’t let up.

“Didn’t know you were paying so much attention to me,” she murmurs.

You scoff, shaking your head. “Get over yourself.”

She clicks her tongue, still infuriatingly close. “You look pissed.”

“I’m no—”

“Oh, you are.”

Your breath stutters.

Because maybe you are.

And maybe she knows it.

Her voice drops, lower, rougher, like she’s savoring this. “What, you didn’t like seeing me with her?”

You close your eyes, exhaling sharply through your nose.

“Jesus, Paige.” You step forward, away from her, away from the heat of her, pacing to the opposite wall, running a hand through your hair. “You’re so fucking—”

You stop yourself.

Because the words clawing up your throat—angry and raw and desperate—aren’t the ones you want to say.

Paige doesn’t move. Doesn’t chase. Just lets the silence stretch, heavy and unbearable, waiting for you to crack.

And you do.

Because your mouth moves before your brain can catch up, before you can stop yourself from spilling the truth, from letting her have this.

“You looked at her like she was the only fucking person in the room.”

The words hang there, sharp and trembling.

Paige exhales, slow, measured, and when you finally force yourself to look at her, her smirk is gone.

She just watches you, her eyes darker now, unreadable.

Then—

“You’re right,” she says.

Your stomach twists.

She holds your gaze, steady and unwavering. “That’s how I look when I want something.”

Your throat tightens.

Because her voice is different now. Not teasing. Not amused. 

And then she takes a step forward. And another.

Until she’s right in front of you, until you can feel the heat of her breath against your lips, until your back is pressing into the wall and there’s nowhere left to go.

Paige tilts her head.

Slow. Measured. Like she’s giving you time. Like she’s waiting.

Your pulse hammers.

She lifts a hand, slow, deliberate, tracing the lightest touch of her fingers against your arm, up, up, featherlight against your shoulder.

You should push her away.

You should say something, anything, because this—this—is dangerous.

But you don’t.

You just stand there, breathing too fast, too hard, your fingers curling against the wall.

Paige watches you.

Then, so softly it almost doesn’t reach over the pounding of your heartbeat—

“I’m not thinking about her right now.”

Your breath hitches.

And that’s it.

That’s the moment everything fucking snaps.

You’re in her space before you even register moving, hands fisting the front of her hoodie, yanking her in so hard she stumbles. But she doesn’t care. She fucking growls against your mouth when you crash together, all heat and teeth and tongue, your lips parting for her automatically, letting her lick inside like she’s starving for it.

She kisses like she owns you. Like she’s already won.

But you’re not making this easy for her. You bite down on her bottom lip, tugging, dragging a sound out of her that’s more animal than human, and then suddenly her hands are on you—gripping your waist, yanking you forward, pushing you back, back, back until your spine collides with the wall.

The room spins. Or maybe it’s just you.

You barely get a second to breathe before she’s on you again, lips hot, demanding, her fingers digging into your hips like she wants to leave bruises, like she wants you to feel her tomorrow.

“You like this?” she mutters against your mouth, voice low and rough as she drags her hands up your sides, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt. "Like being handled like this?"

You barely manage a nod before she lifts you.

Like it’s nothing.

Like you weigh nothing at all.

She hoists you up onto the washer, the cold metal shocking against your skin, her body immediately pressing between your thighs, caging you in.

Your breath shudders out of you, hands fisting in her hoodie, nails scraping against the fabric as she yanks your legs further apart.

Paige just watches you.

Her pupils are blown, her lips slick, her chest rising and falling too fast. Her hands flex against your thighs, gripping hard, her thumbs pressing into the softest part of your skin like she’s trying to brand you.

She doesn’t move.

Doesn’t say anything.

Just fucking stares at you like she’s deciding exactly how she’s going to tear you apart.

Your heart is slamming against your ribs. Your brain is screaming at you to stop, to think, to breathe, but then she licks her lips, and every ounce of hesitation shatters like glass.

You grab her by the collar and yank her in like she’s the only oxygen in the fucking room.

She groans as your mouths crash together again—harder, messier, hungrier. Her hands move, gripping your thighs, sliding up, up, until they’re under your shirt, pushing the fabric higher, fingertips teasing along the band of your bra.

"God, you’re fucking desperate," she mutters against your lips, her voice dripping with amusement.

You don’t even care.

Not when she’s right.

She breaks the kiss, panting, dragging her mouth along your jaw, your throat, sucking, biting, marking you, making sure you’ll feel her tomorrow, see her tomorrow.

Your head tips back, a whimper slipping out before you can stop it.

And Paige fucking laughs.

"Yeah," she breathes against your skin, her tongue swiping over the bruise she just left. "Anyone ever make you sound like this?"

You don’t answer.

Can’t.

Her hands slide higher, fingers curling around your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples through the fabric.

"Didn’t think so," she mutters, rolling them between her fingers, making you arch, making you gasp. "Bet they don’t know what to do with you.”

She pinches harder, making you jerk.

"But that’s not what you want, is it?"

You shake your head, breathless, wrecked, desperate.

Paige just smirks.

"That’s what I thought."

Then, suddenly, she drops.

Drops to her knees.

Your breath stutters, your entire body going rigid as she grins up at you, lips parted, pupils dark, her fingers gripping your thighs like she dares you to move.

She drags her mouth over your inner thigh, biting down just hard enough to make you jolt. Then she licks over it, soothing, teasing, slow, slow, slow.

She presses a single kiss over the fabric of your jeans, right where you're already throbbing.

Then another.

And another.

Before she yanks the button open with her teeth.

You fucking moan.

She laughs—low and pleased—and then she’s peeling your jeans down your legs, dragging your panties with them, her fingers pressing against your inner thighs to spread you.

"God," she mutters, eyes dark, voice thick. "Look at you."

You’re fucking soaked. You know you are.

And she does, too.

She groans, her hands gripping your thighs even tighter as she leans in, her mouth hovering just above where you need her most, her breath hot and teasing.

You lift your hips slightly, already reaching for her hair, butthen—

Paige stops.

Completely.

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t say anything. Just exhales once, slow and deliberate, then pushes herself back up to her feet.

Your heart is still hammering against your ribs, your body still aching, still on fire, and you blink at her, dazed, confused.

“What—?”

She doesn’t answer.

She just smirks.

Then, without a word, she reaches for the shelf, grabs her phone, and slips it into her pocket.

Your stomach drops.

No.

She wouldn’t—

Paige takes a step back, rolling her shoulders, looking at you like she isn’t just leaving you on the edge of madness. Like she isn’t just walking the fuck away.

"Well,” she says, slow, lazy. “This was fun.”

Your brain short-circuits.

She turns toward the door.

Paige. Fucking. Bueckers.

Your breath is still uneven, your legs still wrapped around the washer, your skin still buzzing, burning.

And she’s just—leaving?

No.

No fucking way.

“Are you serious?” you snap, voice raw, breaking.

She glances at you over her shoulder, smirking like she just won the longest game of chess. “What? Didn’t you want to stop?”

Your nails dig into your palms.

You’re going to kill her.

You’re going to fucking kill her.

And then you’re going to kiss her again.

The second the door clicks shut behind her, you’re left sitting there—breathless, pissed, and still throbbing in a way that makes you want to scream.

Your legs are still spread around the washer, body still burning from where her hands had been, where her mouth had almost gone. Your jeans are still undone, your pulse still hammering against your ribs, and Paige fucking Bueckers just walked out.

You let out a sharp breath, shoving both hands through your hair, gripping tight at the roots, trying to will yourself back to normal.

It doesn’t work.

Your heart is still racing, your skin still tingling, your lips still swollen.

“Fucking bitch,” you mutter, slamming your hand against the washer.

Your voice is lost under the pulse of the music vibrating through the walls, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not like she’s here to hear it.

She left.

She fucking left.

And you hate how much it gets to you. How much it makes you want to chase after her, grab her by the hoodie, shove her against the wall and finish what she started.

But that’s what she wants.

She wants you to be thinking about her.

She wants you frustrated.

And you are.

Oh, you are.

You jump off the washer, legs a little shaky, but you force yourself to steady, to breathe. To pull yourself together because no way in hell are you giving her the satisfaction of knowing she just scrambled your brain like that.

Your hands tremble slightly as you fix your jeans, smoothing out your shirt, wiping the last of her touch from your skin.

It doesn’t work.

The scent of her is still clinging to you, faint but impossible to ignore—something clean, something subtle, something undeniably her.

You grip the edge of the counter, grounding yourself as the room tilts around you. You need a fucking drink—hell, you need five—but first, you need to get the fuck out of here. Taking a deep breath, you seize the handle, twist, and the door swings open. She didn’t lock you in. She could have. She would have if she really wanted to fuck with you. But, she didn’t.

She just left you there, knowing exactly what she’d done, knowing exactly how she’d fucked you up, knowing you’d be walking out of this room just as wrecked as if she’d finished what she started.

And that makes you want to find her even more.

You step back into the hallway, the party swallowing you whole again—music, voices, the chaotic heat of the house.

Your hands are still shaking.

You need a drink.

Or you need to find Paige.

And you don’t know which one you’re going to do first.

The laundry room is still warm, still thick with the scent of detergent and something else—something her.

Your fingers flex against the cool metal of the washer as you take a slow, measured breath, trying to steady yourself.

It doesn’t work.

Your skin still burns, your lips still tingling, your body still aching in a way that makes you want to scream.

Paige fucking Bueckers.

You inhale sharply through your nose, shaking your hands out, willing the frustration out of your body, then push off the washer and head for the door. You don’t hesitate this time, don’t pause to gather yourself.

You just leave.

The second you step back into the hallway, the chaos of the party crashes over you again—voices, music, bodies pressing past in a drunken blur.

You need to find Riven.

You need to do something before you lose your fucking mind.

The house feels bigger than it should, the heat of it pressing in around you, the music rattling through your skull. Your fingers twitch at your sides as you weave through the crowd, eyes scanning, searching.

Then—finally—

You spot her.

Riven is perched on the arm of a couch in the living room, a fresh drink in hand, laughing at something the girl beside her just said.

You push toward her, your body still buzzing, your head still spinning, but determined to pretend you haven’t just been left completely wrecked in a locked laundry room by the most insufferable person alive.

Riven clocks you immediately.

She tilts her head, eyes flickering over your face, sharp despite the liquor in her system.

“You look like you’ve been through some shit,” she comments, raising a brow.

You force a laugh, shaking your head. “Just trying to find you.”

“Well, you found me.” She grins, tipping her cup toward you. “And just in time. Thinking about hitting another party.”

You barely register what she’s saying.

Because in your peripherial, something catches your eye.

A glimpse of familiar blonde hair.

A hoodie.

A girl—not you—standing too close, fingers curled in Paige’s sweatshirt, voice low, her lips inches from Paige’s.

Your stomach lurches and your breath stutters.

You shouldn’t be looking.

You shouldn’t care.

Paige leans in, smirking, saying something in return. The girl pulls her toward the bedroom. The door clicks shut behind them.

And that’s it.

Your stomach churns, a sickening twist that rises up your throat, thick and acidic.

Riven is still talking, still watching you, but you can’t focus on the words, can’t focus on anything except the sudden, crushing weight in your chest, the way your throat feels tight, the way the party suddenly feels like it’s suffocating you.

“Hey.” Riven nudges you. “You good?”

You blink hard, exhaling through your nose, forcing yourself to keep it together. “Yeah,” you say, voice too thin, too unsteady.

She studies you, unconvinced.

“You wanna hit another party?”

She’s giving you an out.

A way to distract yourself. A way to drown this feeling in more liquor, more noise, more nothing.

But if you stay here any longer, you’re going to break.

So you shake your head, swallowing against the lump in your throat. “I think I’m gonna go.”

Riven frowns, but she doesn’t push. “Want me to come with?”

“No,” you say quickly, forcing a small smile. “I just—yeah. I think I’m done for the night.”

She nods slowly, watching you, like she knows you’re not saying everything. But she lets it go. “Text me when you get back.”

You nod. “Yeah.”

And then you’re leaving.

Pushing past the bodies, the voices, the heat. Stepping out into the night air, cold against your too-warm skin.

And then you’re walking.

Fast.

Like you can outrun it.

Like you can forget.

But the worst part is—you already know you won’t.

The night air is sharp against your skin, cutting through the lingering warmth of the house, through the haze of alcohol still pulsing in your veins. The sound of the party dulls behind you, muffled by distance, by the pounding in your ears.

You don’t know where you’re going—just that you need to be anywhere but here. Not in that room, not in this house, not with her still lingering in the air like a slow-burning cigarette. The scent of her skin clings to you, the ghost of her hands still warm against your body, her breath still searing against your lips. And that fucking smirk—it’s carved into your mind like a brand you can’t scrub away.

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat thick and stubborn. The sting behind your eyes threatens to spill over, but you grit your teeth, forcing it back down. You’re not going to cry over her. You refuse.

The cool night air rushes against your burning face as you round the corner of the house, stepping onto the damp grass, exhaling sharply like you can push her out of your system in one breath—

And then you see him.

Eli.

He’s leaning against the hood of a car, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, staring up at the sky like he’s waiting for something. The distant glow of a streetlight casts a halo of gold around his head, making his expression unreadable.

You hesitate.

Just for a second.

Then his gaze flickers down, catching on you, and something shifts.

He straightens slightly. “Hey.”

Your heart is still pounding, your skin still too hot, your chest still tight with the remnants of everything you just saw, everything you felt.

And suddenly, you don’t want to think about it anymore.

Suddenly, you want to forget.

You step closer, inhaling sharply through your nose. “What are you doing out here?”

Eli shrugs, a lazy half-smile curving his lips. “Needed a break.” He eyes you, tilting his head slightly. “What about you?”

You wet your lips, arms wrapping around yourself. “Needed to get out of there.”

He hums like he understands. Like maybe he does.

Your fingers twitch at your sides.

He’s looking at you like he’s curious. Like he’s waiting. Like he’s wondering what happened in there to make you walk out like you had somewhere to be, like you had someone to find.

But he doesn’t ask.

And you don’t tell him.

Instead, you step closer.

Slowly.

Testing.

His eyes flicker downward—your mouth, your throat, your hands where they clench into the hem of your shirt.

And something about that—about the way he sees you, about the way he doesn’t ask questions, about the way he’s just there—makes something snap inside you.

You want to feel something else.

Someone else.

So you step forward, closing the last bit of space between you.

Eli inhales, his shoulders tensing slightly. “What are you—”

You kiss him.

It’s impulsive. Reckless.

Your fingers grip at his jacket, pulling him in before you can second-guess it, before you can hear the voice in your head whispering that this isn’t her, this isn’t what you want, this isn’t who you want.

But he kisses you back.

His hands find your waist, hesitant at first, then firmer, fingers pressing into your sides. He tastes like beer and mint gum, like something unfamiliar, something that isn’t her.

And maybe that’s the point.

You deepen the kiss, tilting your head, swallowing down every thought, every memory, every feeling threatening to break through the surface.

Eli exhales against your mouth, the warmth of it sending a shiver down your spine as his hands slide lower, finding the small of your back and pulling you flush against him. You let him. You let yourself lean in, let yourself be kissed, let yourself drown in something—someone—that isn’t her.

Because right now, she can’t exist. She can’t be in your head, in your lungs, in the spaces between your ribs where she’s been living rent-free. If this is the only way to erase her, to rewrite the memory of her hands with someone else’s touch—then so be it.

The morning comes in hazy, dull, a slow drag of reality clawing its way back into your skull.

Your head pounds before you even open your eyes. The taste of stale liquor lingers on your tongue, thick and sour, a reminder of how recklessly you drank the night before.

A deep inhale, and—fuck.

Your body feels off. Too warm, too stiff, too aware.

And then it hits you.

A weight against your side. A slow, rhythmic inhale-exhale that isn’t yours.

You stiffen.

Open your eyes.

The ceiling above you is unfamiliar—somebody’s shitty off-campus house, a string of fairy lights flickering weakly in the daylight. The sheets beneath you smell like detergent and sweat, and the warmth at your side shifts slightly.

Eli.

His arm is draped lazily over your waist, his face half-buried in the pillow. His hair is messy, his breathing slow, peaceful.

Everything slams back into place at once—the party, the kitchen, the drinks, the laundry room. Paige. And then—Eli. Your stomach tightens, not in horror or fear, just realization. What you did. Why you did it. You swallow hard, staring up at the ceiling, willing your pulse to slow, waiting for the weight of it to settle in. But it doesn’t feel like anything. And it should. Shouldn’t it?

You were drunk, sure, but you weren’t gone. You remember his hands, the heat of his body, the way he pressed into you, the way you let him.

But now, in the harsh clarity of morning, all you can think is—

It wasn’t her.

It wasn’t her hands on you. It wasn’t her breath against your skin. It wasn’t her mouth whispering against your throat, sending shivers down your spine, making your stomach twist, making you burn, making you ache.

It was Eli.

And that makes you feel so much worse.

Your breath comes too shallow, your head pounding, your fingers twitching against the sheets. You need to get out of here.

Carefully, slowly, you shift out from under his arm, moving inch by inch until you’re free. He doesn’t stir.

You sit up. Your clothes are mostly intact—jeans unbuttoned but still on, your shirt twisted around you, but nothing that says bad decision in flashing neon lights.

Except the ache in your chest.

You press your hands against your face, inhale deep.

Move.

You slip out of bed, grabbing your shoes from where they’re haphazardly discarded near the door, your jacket thrown across the chair in the corner.

You don’t look back.  You don’t check to see if he’s waking up, if he’ll call after you, if he’ll ask what this was.

Because you don’t have an answer.

The house is quiet, but not silent. Somewhere down the hall, you hear faint voices, the sound of someone in the kitchen, cabinets opening and closing.

You don’t stop.

You walk, fast but not suspicious, through the living room, toward the front door. The air still smells like last night—beer, sweat, something burnt, like someone got hungry and forgot about a frozen pizza in the oven.

The sunlight is sharp when you step outside, stabbing straight into your skull.

You wince, pulling your jacket tighter around you, ignoring the way the world feels like it’s tilting slightly.

Your phone is dead. You exhale, slow, deliberate.

Then you walk.

Every step feels like weight pressing into your chest, like something clawing at the inside of your ribs, like the ghost of someone else’s hands gripping your hips, someone else’s lips dragging along your throat.

You don’t let yourself think about it.

Not yet.

You just focus on the pavement, on the sound of your own breathing, on getting the fuck out of here before the weight of last night really sinks in.

The walk back is slow. Not because you’re taking your time, but because your body is still heavy with last night—liquor humming in your bloodstream, regret pooling somewhere low in your stomach, the ache behind your eyes a dull reminder of every wrong decision that led you here.

Your breath fogs in the morning air. It’s colder than you expected. You pull your jacket tighter, shoving your hands deep into your pockets, head down as you step over cracked pavement, past empty sidewalks.

The streets are quiet.

The world is moving, but just barely—cars rolling by lazily, students in sweats shuffling across campus, people carrying coffee cups like lifelines. The remnants of Saturday night still linger in the air, the ghosts of parties scattered across front lawns—empty cans, forgotten hoodies, crushed solo cups.

It should feel normal. But everything feels off.

Because you know where she is.

Or at least, where she was.

You know what happened after she left you in that fucking laundry room, after she walked away, after she—

You inhale sharply through your nose, pushing the thought away.

It shouldn’t matter.

You made your own choices, didn’t you?

So why does it feel like something is rotting inside you?

Your steps slow as you reach your dorm. The building looms ahead, brick and glass, too familiar, too suffocating. You don’t want to go inside. You don’t want to be alone.

Not when the weight of last night is still pressing down on you, not when the silence is going to make it worse, not when every empty second is just another opportunity for your mind to drag you back.

But you don’t have a choice.

You tug the door open, step inside.

The lobby is quiet, the hallways dimly lit. Your shoes echo against the floor as you make your way to your room, heart thudding heavier with each step.

By the time you reach your door, your hands are shaking.

You tell yourself it’s the hangover.

It’s not.

The second you’re inside, you shut the door, lock it, press your back against the wood, squeezing your eyes shut.

Breathe.

The silence wraps around you, thick and oppressive, and now it hits.

Now the night comes crashing in.

You see it too clearly.

Paige, leaning against the counter, her drink in hand, her smirk lazy, her mouth parted just slightly—

Paige, dragging her fingers over the girl’s waist, letting her pull her in—

Paige, shoving you up onto the washer, her hands gripping your thighs, her breath hot against your lips—

Your eyes snap open.

You swallow hard, jaw tight, chest aching.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

You slept with someone else. You made your choice.

So why does it feel like you lost?

You don’t move for a while.

Just stand there, back pressed against the door, staring at the floor, breath uneven, the silence pressing in from all sides. Your skin still feels too warm, like the heat of last night hasn’t entirely left your body.

Like her hands are still there.

You squeeze your eyes shut. Stop it.

You push off the door, moving toward your bed in slow, heavy steps. You don’t bother turning on the lights. The daylight spilling through the blinds is already too much, making the pounding in your skull even worse.

You collapse onto the mattress, face-first, pressing your cheek into the pillow. The sheets smell like you—just you. No trace of Eli, no hint of anything from last night, and for some reason, that makes you feel worse.

Maybe because it means it didn’t matter.

Or maybe because it means you’re still alone.

You exhale sharply, rolling onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. The ache in your chest hasn’t eased.

If anything, it’s getting worse.

You need a distraction.

You grab your phone from the nightstand, clicking it on. Dead.

Right.

You let it drop onto your stomach, staring blankly at the ceiling again, waiting for your body to settle, for the weight pressing down on your ribs to ease, but it doesn’t. It lingers. She lingers.

She’s everywhere.

Every time you close your eyes, she’s there. The smirk, the mouth, the way she looked at you in the laundry room, sharp and knowing, like she could see every thought running through your head before you even formed them.

You grit your teeth, turning onto your side, gripping the sheets. She is not in this bed. Stop thinking about her.

You don’t know if she ever left that room with that girl. You don’t know if she stayed the whole night. You don’t know if she fucked her.

You let out a slow, shaky breath.

You should sleep. Get up. Shower. Move on.

Instead, you lie there, still, silent, with nothing but the echoes of last night looping through your brain like a song you can’t turn off.

And no matter how hard you try, you can’t shake the feeling that Paige won.

You’re not even supposed to be here.

That’s what you tell yourself as you walk across campus, your fingers curled tight around the strap of your bag, your brain already buzzing with excuses, with reasons—with anything that makes this feel less like a trap.

It’s just an errand.

A professor had emailed you that morning—something about the dining hall on the athletic side of campus having an issue with one of the automated food warmers, something small, something engineering-adjacent. Apparently, it had been flagged last week, and since you’re one of the few undergrads competent enough to check it out, they’d passed it off to you.

You’d said yes before thinking.

Before realizing exactly where they were sending you.

Before remembering who eats here.

Now, standing outside the heavy double doors, the reality crashes into you like a brick to the chest.

This is their dining hall. The athletes. The basketball team. Her.

Your stomach clenches. You should turn around.

No one will notice if you stall for twenty minutes, send an email about how it was already fixed, make up some bullshit about it not being your area.

You swallow, exhale slowly, force yourself to move forward.

Inside, the air is warmer, filled with the scent of food, the sound of chatter, the low hum of conversations overlapping—easy, casual, the way people talk when they don’t have a thousand things clawing at the inside of their skulls.

You keep your head down, moving toward the back of the hall where the food warmers are lined up in sleek, stainless steel rows. The place is bigger than the regular student cafeteria—modern, high ceilings, bright windows. Everything designed for them.

Your pulse thrums in your ears as you slide behind the service counter, setting your bag down, trying to focus on what you came here for.

Focus.

You grab a screwdriver from your bag, crouching slightly, unscrewing the side panel of the warming unit. You barely register the conversations happening around you, just white noise in the background—

Until you hear her.

It’s distant at first. A voice blending in with the others. But your body reacts before your brain does—the immediate recognition, the sharp, visceral reaction, like every nerve in your body suddenly goes rigid.

You don’t look up.

You refuse to look up.

But you hear her.

That low, easy drawl, the teasing lilt in her words, the lazy confidence in the way she talks, like she owns any room she steps into.

And you hate—hate—how it makes your skin burn.

You move faster, working the screws loose, hoping, praying she doesn’t come this way.

But life isn’t that easy, is it?

Because then—closer now—

A voice. A teammate, maybe. Laughing. “Paige, I swear to God—”

And then—her.

Right there. Too close.

You don’t see her face at first, just the familiar joggers, the way they hang effortlessly off her frame. The pristine white sneakers, spotless as always, moving in smooth, practiced steps. And then she shifts, just slightly, and something in your gut twists. You know she sees you. You feel it. The way her stride falters for half a second, that barely-there pause in motion. The weight of her gaze presses against your skin, thick and unshakable, lingering like a hand on the back of your neck.

Your body locks up. The screwdriver in your grip suddenly feels foreign, like it doesn’t belong in your hand, like nothing in this moment belongs. Your fingers tighten around the handle, grounding yourself in something, anything, before it can slip.

And then—nothing.

No smirk. No teasing remark. No acknowledgment at all. She just keeps walking. Not a glance back, not even a twitch of amusement or recognition. Just passes right by you like you’re nothing.

Your chest constricts, the silence louder than anything she could have said. You don’t know if you feel relieved or if you want to fucking scream.

The weight of it slams into your ribs, hard and unexpected, a visceral, gut-deep feeling that you should not be feeling.

Because this is what you wanted, right?

To avoid her. To make this nothing. To erase the way she touched you, the way she looked at you in that laundry room like she knew exactly how to pull you apart and put you back together again.

So why does it feel like she just walked straight through you?

Your fingers curl tighter around the screwdriver, your breath short, uneven, the hum of the cafeteria suddenly too much, too loud, pressing in around you.

Her teammates are still talking, still laughing, moving past you like you’re background noise, like you don’t even register in their world.

And Paige?

She’s leading the charge.

Like she didn’t just see you. Like you aren’t even worth a second glance.

Like she doesn’t know.

Heat rushes up your neck, but it isn’t embarrassment. It’s something sharper, something angrier, something bitter curling its way up your throat.

You twist the screwdriver too hard, slipping, the metal clanging against the side of the food warmer. The noise barely registers over the buzz of conversation, but it jars you, snapping you back into focus.

Get it together.

You grit your teeth, force your hands to steady, force your breathing to even out.

Paige Bueckers is not going to get in your head.

Not now. Not like this.

You glance up, just once, just long enough to catch sight of her before she disappears around the corner.

She’s smiling at something her teammate said, her body loose, easy, the picture of someone without a single fucking care in the world.

And something about that—about the effortlessness of it, about how little she seems to be affected by anything—makes your chest go tight, your stomach coil.

You look back down at the warming unit, ignoring the way your hands shake.

It’s fine.

You don’t care.

You’ll finish this, you’ll leave, and you’ll keep avoiding her.

And if she wants to pretend that night never happened?

Fine.

You can pretend too.

The food warmer is fine.

It had never really been broken in the first place, just a misaligned panel, something so stupidly simple that you could’ve fixed it in thirty seconds if you hadn’t been thrown into a slow-motion car wreck the moment Paige walked in.

You tighten the last screw, slam the panel shut harder than necessary, and grab your bag, exhaling slowly.

Time to leave.

You sling the strap over your shoulder, stepping out from behind the counter, slipping back into the flow of students moving between tables, conversations buzzing, trays clattering.

Your mind is still on her.

Even though you told yourself you wouldn’t let it be.

Even though she’d just walked past you like you were no one.

Your jaw tightens. You have actual shit to deal with.

Like your group project in Systems Engineering that’s due next week.

Like the fact that your bank account is currently laughing at you because you spent too much on takeout last week and now you have to survive on black coffee and spite until your next paycheck.

Like the absolute nightmare of a midterm schedule that’s looming over you.

That’s what you should be thinking about.

Not Paige Bueckers.

Not the laundry room.

Not the way she touched you like she had all the time in the world, only to turn around and walk away without looking back.

You push through the doors, stepping into the cold.

The wind is sharp, biting against your cheeks, cutting through your jacket. A fresh reminder that you’re here, that life is still moving forward whether you’re ready or not.

You’re halfway across campus, your thoughts finally shifting toward something productive—namely, the ungodly amount of work you have waiting for you—when your phone buzzes in your pocket.

You pull it out, squinting against the brightness of the screen.

bitch where are you?

Riven. You huff out a laugh, thumbs moving before you even think.

somewhere worse than hell

Three dots appear immediately,

so. lecture? or did you run into someone who shall not be named?

Your stomach twists.

You type back, fast.

i hate you.

okay so definitely the second one

You groan, shoving your phone back into your pocket before she can keep going.

Because she’s right.

And the worst part is, she doesn’t even know the half of it.

She just knows you and Paige have always had this weird tension—this push and pull, this thing that was never serious but never quite nothing.

She doesn’t know what happened in the laundry room.

She doesn’t know that Paige did something to you that night.

That she changed something.

That you woke up the next morning with someone else’s hands on you and it still wasn’t enough to shake her.

You exhale, hard, pushing the thoughts down, stuffing them somewhere deep where they can’t touch you.

Time to focus.

Midterms. Projects. Surviving off ramen and caffeine for the next two weeks.

Paige Bueckers?

She’s officially off the list.

Continue Reading Part 2.5

[deansbeer]

♡ under wraps ⎯⎯ jackles.

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

📖 LIBRARY !

SYNOPSIS. you and jensen keep your fiery, forbidden relationship secret—until lingering tension threatens your composure.

WARNING(S). smut | f!reader | costar!jensen | costar!reader | rough sex | secrecy | forbidden relationship | explicit language | descriptions of lingering physical sensations | dressing room sex | mentions of jensen's cum (?) | sexual tension | teasing | slight power imbalance | light objectification | no use of y/n.

kari talks ◞ everyone thank daddy dolly for giving me the idea of fucking costar!jensen behind the scenes <33 he's so yummy in this photo and what i had envisioned in my head the entire time writing it :) am i slut for daddy jackles ??? fuck yeah i am. n a proud slut too.

it's a dangerous fucking game you're playing with jensen.

you'd known it from the start. the second you walked onto the set of countdown—a brand-new, high-stakes action series—you felt the pull. it wasn't just his looks, though those were undeniable. it was the way he carried himself, the way his eyes lingered just a beat too long when you first shook hands, the way his deep, gravelly voice curled around your name like it belonged to him.

you weren't supposed to fall for him. hell, you weren't supposed to even look at him like that. but he made it impossible, especially when the two of you were cast as love interests on the show.

the chemistry was instant, explosive. every scene you filmed together felt like a live wire, and it didn't take long before you crossed that unspoken line.

it started with a kiss that wasn't scripted.

you were supposed to pull away after a brief, chaste kiss during a rehearsal, but neither of you did. his lips pressed harder, his hand sliding around your waist, pulling you closer until the director called cut.

"jesus christ," jensen muttered under his breath that day, his voice low enough only for you to hear. he didn't let go of you right away, his green eyes dipping to your lips.

that was the moment everything shifted.

now, weeks later, you're tangled up in a secret relationship that's equal parts thrilling and dangerous. nobody on set knows, or at least you don't think they do. you and jensen are careful—no lingering touches in public, no stolen glances when others are watching.

but behind closed doors?

he's got you screaming his name, your nails raking down his back as he fucks you so thoroughly you can't see straight.

like now.

you're in his dressing room, pressed up against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist as he thrusts into you. his hand is gripping your ass, the other tangled in your hair as his lips claim yours in a bruising kiss.

"you're so fucking perfect," he growls against your mouth, his breath hot and ragged. "can't fucking get enough of you."

your nails dig into his shoulders as you moan his name, your body shuddering as he drives into you relentlessly. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the small room, mingling with your breathless cries and his low, filthy grunts.

you're so close, teetering on the edge, when there's a knock at the door.

"jensen?" a voice calls out. "they need you on set in five."

he freezes, his forehead dropping to yours as he lets out a frustrated groan.

"fuck," he mutters, his voice laced with irritation.

you're still clinging to him, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps as you try to ground yourself.

"you've got to go," you whisper, your voice hoarse.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his green eyes dark with lust.

"you're lucky we don't have more time," he says, his lips quirking into a smirk. "because i'm not done with you."

he sets you down gently, his hands lingering on your hips for a moment before he steps back. you quickly fix your clothes, your cheeks flushed as you try to compose yourself.

"you good?" he asks, his voice softening as he watches you.

you nod, though your legs feel like jelly, and your pulse is still racing.

"yeah," you manage to say, your voice steadier than you feel.

he leans in, brushing a quick kiss against your lips before heading toward the door.

"see ya out there, sweetheart," he says with a wink before slipping out of the room.

the interview is with one of your other castmates, a lighthearted segment for a popular entertainment show to promote the series. you're sitting next to jensen, the two of you positioned on a plush couch with your co-star on the other side.

you're trying to focus, you really are, but your body is still buzzing from what just happened in his dressing room. every time you catch a whiff of his cologne or hear the low rumble of his voice, you feel heat pool in your stomach all over again.

it doesn't help that he's sitting so damn close, his thigh brushing against yours every time he shifts.

but the worst part?

you can still feel him.

you'd barely had time to clean yourself up before rushing out of his dressing room, and now, sitting here in front of the cameras, you can feel the ghost of him between your legs. the dull ache he left behind, the way your panties are damp, not just with your own arousal but with a little of him. it's driving you insane, every slight shift in your seat sending a fresh wave of heat curling through your body.

you cross your legs, trying to ignore it, but the movement only makes you more aware of everything—how sensitive you still are, how wet you still are, and how much you need him all over again.

the interviewer is a bubbly woman in her early thirties, her smile bright as she asks questions about the show.

"so, jensen," she says, turning her attention to him. "your character and [___]'s character have this incredible chemistry. what was it like working together to build that connection?”

you can feel his eyes on you, and you force yourself to smile, keeping your gaze fixed on the interviewer.

"oh, it was easy," jensen says, his voice smooth and confident. "she's an incredible actress. makes my job a hell of a lot easier."

you can feel the heat creeping up your neck, and you hope it doesn't show.

"what about you, [___]?" the interviewer asks, turning to you. "what was it like working with jensen?"

"it was great," you say, your voice steady despite the way your heart is pounding. "he's so talented and professional. he really made me feel comfortable on set."

jensen smirks at that, and you can feel his eyes lingering on you.

"so there was no awkwardness?" the interviewer presses, her tone playful. "no funny moments during the more, uh, intimate scenes?"

you let out a small laugh, shaking your head.

"not really," you say, though your voice sounds a little higher than usual. "we just tried to stay focused."

jensen chuckles beside you, and the sound sends a shiver down your spine.

"we're professionals," he says with a wink at the interviewer, who blushes slightly under his gaze.

you shift in your seat again, trying to ignore the way your body is reacting to him. but jensen notices. of course he does.

his hand is resting on his thigh, his fingers drumming lightly against the fabric of his jeans. it's a small, subtle movement, but it's enough to make your breath hitch.

he glances at you out of the corner of his eye, a cocky smirk tugging at his lips when he sees the way you're squirming.

"something wrong, darlin'?" he murmurs under his breath, low enough that only you can hear.

you shoot him a glare, but it lacks any real heat.

"asshole," you mutter back, your voice barely audible.

he chuckles softly, turning his attention back to the interviewer as if nothing happened.

the rest of the interview passes in a blur, your focus shot to hell thanks to the man sitting beside you.

the second the interview wraps, you grab jensen by the arm and drag him back to his dressing room, ignoring the curious looks from the crew as you pass.

"someone's in a hurry," he teases, his voice dripping with amusement as you shove him inside and close the door behind you.

"shut up," you snap, your voice breathless as you push him against the wall.

his hands are on you in an instant, pulling you flush against him as his lips crash into yours. the kiss is rough, desperate, and you can feel the smirk on his lips as you tug at his shirt.

"needy lil' thing, aren't you?" he murmurs against your lips, his hands sliding down to grip your ass.

"you started it," you shoot back, your voice muffled as you kiss him again, your teeth grazing his bottom lip.

he groans, his grip tightening as he spins you around, pressing you against the wall.

"you're right," he says, his voice low and rough as his lips trail down your neck. "'n now i'm gonna finish it."

his hands are everywhere, sliding under your shirt, tugging at your jeans, leaving you breathless and trembling as he takes exactly what he wants.

and you let him.

because with jensen ackles, you'll gladly play the dangerous game.

every. single. time.

ϑ𝛠 SPECIAL TAGS. @titsout4jackles @floralscented @aileenunfiltered @deanswidow @lacydollette @beausling @figthoughts @frosttbitessam @bluestrd @florchids @ultravi0lence14 @starzify @honeyryewhiskey @bluemerakis @deansbite @rafespreciosa @voidsuites @abox-of-rocks @whisperingdaze @inspiredangel @deanssun . . . ☆

[sanjoongie]

ᏕᏇᏋᏋᏖ ᏰᏝᎧᎧᎴ

🖤2nd Submission for the YOTV: Year of the Snake collab (ML)

🖤Pairing: Vampire! Hwang Hyunjin x Human! Reader ft Vampire! Felix, Vampire Hunters! Chan, Jisung, Changbin and Minho

🖤Au: Vampire au, Vampire Hunter au, Supernatural au, elements of The Others by Anne Bishop (please check it out, you won't be disappointed)

🖤Genre: romance, smut, horror

🖤Trope: bonny/clyde

🖤Rated: 21+(very graphic, very dark), MINORS DO NOT FUCKING INTERACT

🖤Word Count: 6,540

🖤Beta: @downtoamagicalland

🖤Summary: when you would follow your vampire boyfriend to the very ends of the earth, and considering his madness you just might, there's only one man who can stop the terror that follows you two

🖤Soundtrack: Yuta's Off the Mask, Chase Atlantic's Okay, and of course Sam Tinnesz's Play with Fire

🖤Author's Note: i finished Beast! San and immediately decided I wanted something a little bit more darker, fucked up and bloody so this is the result of riding those coattails. This will not be for everyone, so please pay attention to the warnings below!!!

🖤Warnings below the cut!

🖤Warnings: vampire powers (hypnotism, speed, supernatural strength) blood, descriptions of eating organs, blood taking, madness, death, slapping, spitting, tongue piercing, descriptions of the taste of blood, betrayal, character deaths

🖤Kinks: noncon, dubcon, public sex, anal, spit as lube, clit play, dirty talk, pet names (baby, pretty, love, darling), blood play, inebriated sex, aphrodisiac, coercion through sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, oral (f), oral with a tongue piercing, mxm (kissing), threesome, double penetration (two dicks, one puss), finger sucking, breast play

You sigh, crossing and uncrossing your legs. Everyone in the dirty, stingy bar has either flown the coop or were currently having their entrails dug out through their pelvis bone. It was supposed to be date night but Hyunjin was having all the fun.

“Babe!” You yell.

“Squish squish squish says the liver,” Hyunjin cackles.

You sigh again. All it took was some stupid human to bang into your boyfriend and it was off to the crazy races. 

Hyunjin bites into the liver he had been playing with and groans as blood runs down his face. His eyes roll into the back of his head. He is delirious with ecstasy and lunacy. 

“Hwang Hyunjin!” You bark.

“Yes, my love?” Hyunjin’s eyes swing wildly and finally land on you. He frowns like it’s odd for you to not be covered in blood. “Are you not having any fun?”

“You’ve killed everyone!” You point out dryly.

Hyunjin’s head moves back and forth as he takes in his self-wrought destruction. “I suppose I have.” He shrugs and then throws down the half eaten liver. “Shall we hit up another place then?”

You roll your eyes. “Hyunjin, they’re not going to let you in looking like that.”

“Oh.” Hyunjin raises his arms as if to get a good look that he’s covered in blood. 

“Come on, let's get out of here before the vampire hunters get any wise ideas,” You tsk, grabbing Hyunjin’s upper arm and hauling him behind you. 

Hyunjin licks his fingers like a cat cleaning their paws. “Let them come. I’ll kill them too.”

“I think you’ve had enough fun for one night, my love,” You observe.

Hyunjin stops mid-step as you climb out of the underground bar. He looks up at you, a small smile pulling at one of the corner’s of his blood-stained lips. “Have I?”

“Nope.” You continue to go up one more stair. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Oh, I’m thinking about it alright,” Hyunjin purrs before pulling you down and into his arms.

“Hyunjin.” You stare into the eyes of a madman. “You killed everyone. It’s only a matter of time before they come after us.”

“Then it should be quick, should it not?” Hyunjin dimisses your worries immediately, pressing your front to the rough poured and pocketed concrete wall. 

“I don’t want to fuck here,” You whine, your face rubbing against a poster promoting some band that started with an A. Their lead singer is staring right into your soul as Hyunjin hefts the skirt of your short dress out of the way. 

Hyunjin’s long fingers wrap around your throat and bend over your jaw upwards. “Come now, my love. I’ve had my fill of blood and now I want to have my fill of you.”

“I don’t--” You freeze as Hyunjin’s fangs click and you feel them scraping against the nape of your neck. “You said you were full!”

You feel Hyunjin’s tongue follow the seam of his mouth against your skin. “I always have room for dessert.”

You struggle in Hyunjin’s hold but he’s a vampire; he’s like velvet steel. You whimper as his teeth puncture your skin. 

The minute his mouth floods with your blood is the second his venom flies through your veins. You become compliant and wet. You mutter under your breath, a string of sentences that only Hyunjin can hear. They wouldn’t make sense to anyone but a madman. But Hyunjin’s not keen on taking note of what you say. He’s got more important things to do.

Hyunjin’s fingers skim over your hip, find your bare cunt and the pad of his finger rubs into your clit. Slow, circular motions until you begin to buck into his ministrations. “There’s a good girl. Doesn’t that feel good?”

“Feels s’good,” you begin to slur your words. 

Hyunjin’s venom is both an aphrodisiac and a depressant. You feel horny and drunk at the same time. Your ability to think narrows down to the pleasure Hyunjin is giving you with just one finger. 

The vampire at your back begins to rut up against your ass cheeks. “You make me so hard, baby,” Hyunjin coos into your ear. 

His cheek rubs against yours like a cat trying to mark its owner. If you were more sober, perhaps you’d flinch at the blood he was spreading across your face but alas, you are none of the sort. 

Your arm reaches behind you, to curl your fingers into Hyunjin’s hair. “You gonna fuck me, baby?” You wonder.

“Thinkin’ damn hard about it,” Hyunjin growls.

“Gonna fuck me in this dirty place? Gonna spread my ass cheeks and make me take you in a dirty spot? You gonna leave my pussy weeping for you?”

The vampire behind you does exactly that. He spreads your cheeks, spits onto your hole and then spears himself inside of you. You groan at the sensation, sparks of lust only creating further fires in your loins. You're loving every bloody second of this.

“You’re so good for me, pretty,” Hyunjin purrs into your ear. He takes his time fucking your ass, his finger still doing slow, circular motions along your clit. “I want you dripping and eager for me when we get home.”

You let out a whine. “Why am I being punished?”

Hyunjin chuckles darkly under his breath. “Punished? No, darling, I’m only making the evening better.”

You tip your head back to lie against Hyunjin’s shoulder as he fucks you in the dark alley. “Wanna come,” You pout.

“Sometimes I think your impatience competes with mine,” Hyunjin laughs at you. “You’re going to have to come the old-fashioned way. I don’t think I should drink from you a second time.”

Your hand smoothes over Hyunjin’s and you press his finger harder to your clit. Your hips jerk at the further friction. “Don’t be a tease, love.”

With a grunt, Hyunjin grabs your leg with his free hand and lifts it up so he can have easier access to your asshole and your clit. He begins to fuck into you a bit faster and his finger on your clit vibrates with its alacrity.

“Come for me, pretty.” You feel Hyunjin’s plush lips press against the spot before your ear in an affectionate kiss and you come.

“Fuuuuccckkkkkk,” you hiss as your orgasm rips through you. You feel as if every nerve is on fire and the cock between your ass, along with the finger on your clit, pushes you to heights only acquired with a vampire. 

“Clenching down on my dick so hard, oh god.” You feel Hyunjin’s teeth scrape against your shoulder, resisting the urge to bite you the same time he came. 

His long, drawn out groan echoes and bounces in the small stairway where Hyunjin had pushed you up against the wall. You feel him fill your ass and you groan with him. It was just like your unhinged vampire boyfriend to fuck you in the ass in public.

The high of Hyunjin’s bite is chased away by your blood pumping excitedly with your orgasm. Your brain is back and you’re not happy.

“Can we leave now?” You say haughtily. “Or do you want to go back in there and lick the floor clean?”

Hyunjin giggles and you roll your eyes. “We can go.”

“You missed them again?” Chan demands, banging a fist against the table. 

Jisung flinches at the loud noise. “Over 30 dead. No sign of Hyunjin.”

“Damn it!” Chan yells.

He picks up his chair and throws it at the wall. 

“Hey! Cool it, Hot Shot,” Minho growls, standing up from his desk, where the chair may have flown over his head. “Take a time out. Go find someone to fuck. I don’t care what you do, just stop having a fit in my office.”

“Chan.” Changbin throws his arms around his friend’s shoulders. “We’ll get them. You just have to be patient.”

“I’m tired of hearing about their kills!” Chan screws his eyes shut and tears angrily stream down his cheeks. “I’m sick and tired of it, Changbin.”

Jisung leans against the door frame of the weapons room where the two men had moved to. “I don’t get it. It’s like they’re not even real.”

“The bodies are real,” Changbin snaps. “The blood is fucking real, Jisung.”

Jisung holds up his hands. “Hey hey hey, I know. It’s just confusing that we can never catch them after the crime. No other vampires elude us so well.”

“Well, they aren’t just any vampires, are they?” Chan says through his hands that cradled his head.

In the abandoned speakeasy that was the vampire nest that you and Hyunjin lived in, you two were in an intense argument the following day after the massacre at Horizon.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Hyunjin shook his head. “Not in the slightest.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Babe. I need you by my side forever.” Hyunjin curls his hands around your face. 

“Then you make me your Renfield, Hyunjin. I don’t want to be connected to…” Your jaw tightens. “The ancient ones told you that you had to choose correctly.”

“Felix will live a lot longer than I will,” Hyunjin whispers.

“No, I refuse.” You poke a finger into Hyunjin’s bare chest. His chains and necklaces rattle as he takes a step back with the force you used. “It’s either you or no one.”

“My love. You know I’m not quite right in the head.” Hyunjin chuckles. “I won’t take you down with me if I’m not sane enough to take care of you.”

“I will have to be bonded with him!” You shout. “Do you understand that? Bonded. He will have to feed from me once a month at least to keep the bond up and to keep me immortal. They were very clear. It was like being lovers. I’ll have to--Hyunjin!”

You slap your boyfriend. The red outline of your hand is perfectly imprinted on his porcelain cheek. Your manicure had caused a scratch on the corner of his lip. His red tongue pokes at the cut and his fangs peak out as he starts to chuckle again. 

“I know.”

“You sick fuck,” You spit, quite literally, onto his cheek. 

The glob of spit runs down his red cheek. 

“I want you to do that to Felix,” Hyunjin chuckles from his gut before it becomes high pitched and chaotic.

“I’m going for a walk,” You declare, throwing your hands up. “Don’t follow me!” You screech.

You follow the back alleys that were created during the prohibition. Clubs needed a safe way to get their liquor delivered. What better than to use the old catacombs that already connected underneath the top city?

“Hey, wait up!” Felix calls after you.

But you didn’t stop. 

“You can’t go too far without at least one of us, you know that!”

“Wouldn’t think of it,” You mutter under your breath.

“You know what will happen to Hyunjin if they get you.”

That makes you stop. Felix runs into your back. “Knew that would stop you.”

“Listen, just because you’re a vampire and I’m not, doesn’t give you the right to own my body.”

Felix pushes both hands into the side pockets of his slacks. “Who said that?”

“I may be a human but I was there when they changed you. I wasn’t delirious while someone fed me blood. I committed to memory each rule they spoke when they took you two. I know better than either of you what happens if I become someone’s Renfield.”

Felix smirks, running a tongue along his fang. “I know you’re gonna do it.”

“You know fucking NOTHING, Jon Snow,” You sneer.

“No?” Felix takes a step towards you in the dimly lit underground back alleys of the clubs and bars that filled the street above. 

“You don’t think I hear you two fucking night after night?” Felix takes another step than another, looming over you. “Think I don’t hear your sweet voice telling Hyunjin ‘no’ and ‘stop’ and ‘don’t do that’ and ‘that’s dirty’? You have a noncon kink. And that’s fucking hot.”

“I’m not drinking your fucking blood, Felix. Now fuck off,” You hiss in his face. 

You duck under his arm and shoot down the alleyway. Your boots jingle merrily, as if they are happy to be going for an impromptu jog.

It’s two fucking seconds before Felix cuts you off with his speed. He’s a blur of white and then he’s leaning against the wall. “Where ya going, Renfield?”

“You cocky son of a bitch. Hyunjin!”

A black blur zips towards you and you scream in scared excitement as your boyfriend appears in front of you. “Are you okay?” He begins to spin you around and pat you down. 

Felix mouths the words “Party Pooper” behind you. You stick out your tongue. Felix does the same, flashing his tongue piercing. 

“I’m fine, Hyunjin. I want to go dancing. Can we go dancing?”

Hyunjin smiles happily. “Go dancing? So close to our last soirée?” Hyunjin’s tone gets throaty with his French. 

You nod your head once sharply. “You gorged yourself recently so surely you can go an evening without wiping out the club?” You shake a finger in front of Hyunjin’s face and he snaps at it playfully, his teeth clicking when they come in contact. 

Hyunjin pretends to think about it. “Felix is coming, right?”

“I wouldn’t miss it, even if the sun was rising,” Felix replies.

Hyunjin lets out a sharp laugh.

You look at Felix like he’s disgusting and you look up at your boyfriend. “See? Felix has a death wish just like you. Stupid to make me his Renfield.”

Hyunjin’s eyes sharpen and narrow down on you. “You keep that attitude up and I’ll make sure that when you first take blood from Felix, it’s from a cut along his thigh.”

“Hyunjin!” You whine, knowing he’s committing you to a lifetime of licking blood intimately from Felix.

“Hey hey hey!” Jisung shouts from his spot at his computer. “Chats live. Sightings of the three of them are hot. I’ve got a post saying they’re at Insomnia.”

Chan shrugs on his hostler along his shoulders. “We’re fucking getting them tonight.”

Minho and Changbin exchange a look. “Are we bringing the stakes?”

“Holy water grenades. Silver knives. Everything we have.”

Jisung pulls off his headphones. “Chan…”

“You’ve seen what they’re capable of, god damn it, don’t get weak on me now,” Chan says through gritted teeth.

“We’ll bring everything,” Minho agrees. He waves the other two towards the weapon’s room.

Chan stuffs his dual crossbows in his two shoulder holsters and then secures the wooden arrows in the quiver at his thigh holster. Minho puts a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“We can bring all the weapons you want but that’s not going to change what happened that night, Chan,” Minho says lowly.

Chan’s gloved hands creak as they form fists at his side. He keeps his head leaning down and avoids Minho’s gaze. “I’m freeing her. Even if it’s the last thing I do.”

The bathroom door to the men’s washroom in Insomnia is locked. No one’s going to come in anyway, because Hyunjin had hypnotized a bouncer to stop anyone and point at a ‘cleaning’ sign, that didn’t make sense at midnight, but no one was going through the bouncer to find the truth.

Hyunjin has you propped up on the bench of sinks, fangs deep into your thigh. You moan throatily while he drinks from you. Each pull of his swallow, each splash of your blood on his tongue, is like a lap to your clit or a pass over your g-spot. A vampire’s bite is orgasmic. Otherwise, how’d they get their prey so weak and willing?

Felix is leaning his back against the entry door, the underside of his boot pressed there, propping his leg up. His eyes drink in your half naked form. The way you moan for Hyunjin is music to his ears. 

His thirst for you has always been part carnal and part bloody. Hyunjin said your blood always tasted the sweetest. But you’d be damned if you let Felix’s fangs puncture you--the same you deny of his cock.

Blood drips to the floor and Felix licks his lips. “Hyunjin,” the younger vampire says in warning to not suck you dry.

Hyunjin leans back on the balls of his feet, licking his lips gratuitously. “Fuck, sometimes I can’t stop myself.”

Your fingers card through Hyunjin’s silky hair. “Tonight is the end of everything.”

Hyunjin backs up to where Felix is standing. “Just watch the show.”

“Tonight the sky crashes down on chicken little’s head,” You say with a giggle.

“Wait, I thought you said she spoke prophecy?” Felix frowns.

“Isn’t it glorious?” Hyunjin says reverently. 

“Tonight the lover’s fall from the tower,” You moan.

Your eyes are blown as if you’re higher than a kite but it is simply the way your body reacts when you spill your blood. Your fingers run through your blood on your thigh and before either vampire can stop you, you run your fingers through your wet pussy lips. 

“Three will become one,” You cry out and then you collapse like a ragdoll.

Hyunjin zooms and then he catches you before you can fall from the sink. “You tell such pretty stories, my love.”

Felix scratches the back of his head, moving towards where Hyunjin is holding you by the sinks. “I thought she’d …like… give us winning numbers to the lotto or the name of a dog to bet on at a race. What the hell did she say? Chicken little?”

Hyunjin smirks, hefting you in his arms, bridal style. “You didn’t follow?” 

“Hyunjin, I can never follow your own madman ravings, how the hell do you think?--” 

Felix's words are muffled as the older slants his lips against Felix’s suddenly. Hyunjin’s  tongue pushes in so that Felix can taste your blood on his tongue.

Hyunjin breaks the kiss to explain. “Tonight, we fuck her. Then you bite her. Then she becomes your Renfield. Then we are together forever, the three of us.”

You whine, pressed between both of their chests as Hyunjin kissed Felix. 

“You want it, don’t you, pretty?” Hyunjin coos at you.

Your arms wrap around his neck and you snuggle into his body. “Jinnie.”

“Show him, my love. Show Felix how wet you are, hmm?” 

Hyunjin backs up, shifting you in his arms easily with his supernatural strength. Your back is to his chest, as his hands cup underneath your thighs. Your pussy is revealed to Felix. The wetness there drips lewdly to the floor, much like how your blood still was. 

“Show her how much you adore her,” Hyunjin whispers conspiratorily to his current partner in crime.

Felix kneels down at Hyunjin’s feet, his face now level with your wet cunt. Hyunjin takes one more step, forcing Felix’s face into your pussy. Felix groans, unable to hold back and dives into your cunt. 

“No,” You shake your head. “Only Hyun--” Your back arches and you cry out as Felix sucks on your clit heavily. 

“Smother him, my love. Make him breathe only your pussy.” Hyunjin licks the shell of your ear. 

You moan loudly as Felix’s tongue starts to lap at your clit, his tongue piercing providing an alternating texture from his rough tongue. One of your hands curls into the nape of Hyunjin’s neck and the other smooths into Felix’s scalp, tugging as you buck into his tongue. 

“Do you taste her blood on her pussy lips, Lixie? Doesn’t she taste like the fountain of youth?” Hyunjin casts his head back and laughs maniacally. “Isn’t it addicting?”

Felix has lost all sense of himself. All he knows is his tongue needs to explore your cunt and he needs you to come on his face. His muffled noises of pleasure attempt to pull you from your lust-clouded mind. 

“No, no you’re using me!” You struggle in Hyunjin’s hold. “You know what my blood does to vampires!”

Hyunjin giggles, burying his face into your hair, only to inhale sharply. “He’ll fuck you like a werewolf in a rut. Gone Over Wolf, we’ll call it.”

“Fuck, Felix,” You whine, lost again to the climax curling in your lower stomach. 

Felix moans into your cunt as you tug on his hair to pull him off of you but the vibrations from the moans--not to mention the deep noise of the moans--causes you to whimper. 

“Felix and I will fuck your wet cunt together and we’ll all be joined then, won’t we, my love?” Hyunjin says in a sing-song voice. “You’ll be so dumb with pleasure.”

“Hyunjin,” You say with a raw voice and then you come, convulsing in Hyunjin’s tight hold. 

Felix lets you hump his face, spreading your wetness all over his face as you ride out your climax. Then he sits back on the floor. His palms support him flat on the tiles and his legs are spread. And there, right dead center on his pants, is a wet spot.

Hyunjin releases your leg one by one and then wraps an arm firmly around your waist to keep you upright. “Look what you did. Look at the power you have over him!” Hyunjin’s other free hand squishes your cheeks together and forces you to gaze down at Felix. “You made him come untouched, my love.”

“I…” Felix does not look like he’s ashamed of his state. “You can’t give me a taste of heaven and then close the gates on me. Please.”

This crazy merry-go-round was fucked up. Felix was addicted to you and you are addicted to Hyunjin. And Hyunjin was simply a man with a broken mind with brief moments of sanity who thought that being bonded to Felix would ensure that you wouldn’t die in his crashing plane of a life; some part of him didn’t want to take you down with him. 

Your tears well up. You loved Hyunjin. You didn’t think you could live without him. Why would he condemn you to a life without him?

Your tears splash against Hyunjun’s hands. He lets go of your cheeks and turns you around in his hold. “Tears, Idle Tears. Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.”

“Don’t you wax poetic to me, my love,” You sniffle.

“Don’t hurt, Felix,” Hyunjin counters. “He’s still hard, look.”

“Hyunjin,” you scowl.

“Let your pussy lips part for me like rose petals on a thorny stem,” Hyunjin cajoles you with his insane rhetoric. “Let his cock give you a lovely burn. Let his blood be your lifeline. Let us share you, my love.”

“Please.” Felix grabs fistfuls of your skirt, practically begging at your feet. “Please,” he repeats again, his Adam’s apple bobbing. 

“I’ve given Felix a kiss and Felix has kissed you. I think it’s time you give me a kiss, pretty,” Hyunjin attempts to win you over by overloading your senses. 

“I love you so fucking much,” You whisper as you tip your head and push up on your toes for a searing kiss. 

Hyunjin’s jaw drops so that you can plunge your tongue in his mouth. Those sensual lips of his that you have seen just last night around someone’s liver slanted across yours in a dance that you could live centuries in. 

It’s during this deep kiss that you feel the fists in your skirt release and smooth up your hips. Felix’s blunt nails dig a little into your stomach and you gasp into Hyunjin’s mouth. The elder vampire chuckles and breaks the kiss. 

“He needs you, pretty,” Hyunjin whispers against your lips.

You look down to see Felix’s mouth open and his tongue stuck out.

“Remember what I said earlier?” Hyunjin’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “Do it.”

Your heart is pitter-pattering in your chest as  you turn in Hyunjin’s hold once again to face Felix. Hyunjin peeks over your shoulder to watch the show. He knows you’ll do whatever he asks of you because you’ve always done exactly what he asks of you. He was your addiction. 

You gather spit in your mouth and let it slowly drop down in a long string. When it lands on Felix’s tongue, he groans and his eyes roll into the back of his head.

“Whatever you give to him tonight will be just like that. He’s had a taste of your blood. He will love it all. He’s a puppy, an eager one, just for you,” Hyunjin says to you. 

“I don’t want him to be mine,” You say with disdain.

“He is yours nonetheless, my love,” Hyunjin informs you. 

“I will lie down on this floor,” Felix says after swallowing your spit. “I won’t make a noise. I will cut my jugular for you to drink from. What do you want from me, my Renfield?”

Your lips tighten into a firm line. You didn’t know why it was so important to do this now but you’ll do it. 

You put a firm hand on Felix’s shoulder and push him to the ground. He watches you with big eyes. “When the two join as one, they must be joined joyously, and in agreement. To meet a height of gloriousness to bring upon the good spirits into the bond.”

Hyunjins groans from above you. “Why do you sound so hot when you tell me how to be a vampire?”

“That’s because you’re crazy, love,” You say back.

Hyunjin giggles. “Touché, my love.”

You reach for Felix’s jeans and begin to undo them. “Are you in rut, pup?” You ask as you wrap your hand around his length. 

Felix’s jaw tightens and he makes a loud noise in the back of his throat. “Fuuuuuuuuuck.”

“Do you need me?” Your grip around his length tightens at the base of his erection, causing Felix to half groan, half yell. 

“I don’t think I’ve been this hard,” Felix admits. The tendons in his neck strain as your hand stays in one spot.

You lean down, your arm trapped between both your bodies. “Tell me the truth. This is from Hyunjin’s kiss, isn’t it?”

“It has always been the three of us,” Felix avoids directly agreeing. “It should have always been the three of us.”

You roll your eyes and sit up. “Jinnie, can you be inside of me first?”

Hyunjin snorts. “Can I?”

“Felix is being… difficult.”

“Well, he wouldn’t if he knew what paradise was awaiting his dick,” Hyunjin mutters. 

Still, the brunette drops to his knees behind you. He doesn’t need the stimulation, and neither do you, but still Hyunjin’s painted-nail fingers slide over your rib cage and cup your breasts. You didn’t bother with a bra and the thin shirt over your boobs doesn’t do a good job of being a barrier between you and your boyfriend. 

“If I were you, Lixie, I’d be getting my cock deep inside of her so that I could wrap my tongue around her nipple. And if you’re a really good vampire, you could bite her from her breast. Then you can suckle from her tit like this for the rest of your unnatural lives.”

You raise an eyebrow at Felix. It was his job to admit to what you wanted to hear. 

Felix stares directly into your eyes as he says, “I want to feel my dick slide against his inside of you.”

You smile so happily that Felix’s heart skips a beat. He would gladly admit to any of his faults if that meant you would be pleased with him. He was tired of being the third wheel; he wanted to be a part of you two. 

“Come on, pretty, let’s make Lixie happy then, hmmm?” Hyunjin purrs.

You rub your lips together as you feel the head of Hyunjin’s cock rub against your folds. You lean forward slightly so that Hyunjin can slide right into you. You close your eyes as your eyebrows furrow as he fills you up. His dick wasn’t the one you were worried about, however. 

You begin to pump Felix’s cock in your hand and the vampire below you cries out. “I’m a good puppy,” Felix starts to babble. “I’m yours, I’m yours, please let me in? It fucking hurts how much I want to be inside of you, against him. I need it. I need it more than I need blood and oxygen right now. Fuck. Let me in!”

You brace yourself above Felix, spitting into your hand before bringing it back to Felix’s cock and rubbing it along his length. Then you bring his length to be just in front of Hyunjin’s and you cry out at the stretch as Felix enters you.

“Oh fuck, that’s the stuff,” Hyunjin shouts. 

He begins to rock into you, causing you and Felix to cry out in unison. Hyunjin chuckles at the results. 

“Pretty babies,” Hyunjin says reverently. “I’ll make you feel good.”

“Hyun--jin,” You pant as Felix is still making his way inside of you. “Wait--”

“There’s no stopping now,” Hyunjin grunts, continuing to fuck into you. 

“Fuck,” You moan. “Fe-felix, move! Damn you.”

Felix pushes in as Hyunjin receeds and the slide of the two of them in you is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. The two cockheads pounding into you alternatively makes you clench down and the two men inside of you whimper. 

“Eat up my cock, my love,” Hyunjin hisses. One of his hands is on your shoulder and another on your hip. “I love when you suck me in like you never want me to ever pull out.”

“Felix, bite your finger,” Hyunjin commands out of the blue.

“Hu-huh?” Felix stutters, barely able to comprehend anything other than his cock’s pleasure right now. 

“When we come, the blood sharing has to be at the same time,” You speak for your boyfriend. “He wants you to cut your finger and stick it in my mouth. He wants you to think of me on your cock every time I feed from you.”

“O-oh.” Felix hisses as his cock slides deliciously against Hyunjin’s. “I can--oh god--do that!”

“Are you gonna let him bite your boob, babe?” Hyunjin ponders.

“Only if you let me get a matching bite tattoo of your teeth on the side of my heart,” You whine.

Hyunjin’s fingers poke at the barely-healed scars of his last bite on you. “Haven’t I left enough scars on you?”

“Never enough,” You whisper back. 

You cup Felix’s head and guide it to your breast. With each jolt, each thrust of Hyunjin and Felix, your soft breasts sway tantalizingly towards Felix and his plush mouth. 

“Hyunjin, you’re gonna have to--quickly, I think I’ll come without his bite, please!” You hurry Hyunjin.

“Oh, I’ll come when I see him biting you and you sucking on his bloody finger,” Hyunjin promises. 

You give a curt nod to Felix and he brings his finger to your mouth. His blood wets your lips and you fight the instincts to catch it on your tongue. Felix bares his teeth, his canine’s elogating, and then you feel two piercings right on the swell of your right tit. Felix shoves his finger in your mouth and you suck on it hard, letting the copper tang mingle along your taste buds. 

Everything happens at once.

You come, hard, and you go blind with a red film.

Felix comes, his noises of pleasure muffled by your breast.

Hyunjin comes so loudly, it sounds painful. 

And then you realize what the red film is: Hyunjin’s blood.

“Get the fuck off of her!” Chan shouts gutterly. 

The vampire hunter pulls back Hyunjin from behind you. Hyunjin stares up at Chan with wide eyes, a surprised smile pulling at his lips. “Long time no see!”

“You bastard!” Chan curses. 

He aims his other hand crossbow and only by the grace of Minho hitting the crossbow up and diverting the cross bow’s path higher up, does it miss Hyunjin’s heart. It joins the other arrow at his shoulder, the one Chan shot earlier in Hyunjin’s back. 

“Don’t kill him!” Minho shouts, “What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong me?” Chan frowns heavily. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“...lix?” Jisung says Felix’s name like he’s a long lost friend. 

“Jisung?” Felix blurs for a second. He goes from being prostrate on the ground to standing in front of you. “Wha-what are you doing here?”

“We’re here to stop you guys,” Changbin says gruffly. He is scratching the back of his neck. “You’re not killing anyone tonight.”

“Give her to me, Felix,” Chan commands. He puts his hand out and then makes a come-hither gesture. 

“I can’t. We’re bonded.”

“What?” Jisung shouts in confusion. “I thought--”

“You sick fuck.” Chan holsters his dual crossbows, grabs a handful of Hyunjin’s shirt and then punches the vampire. “You bonded her to Felix?!”

“Ring around the rosie, pockets full of posie. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down,” Hyunjin sings before collapsing into giggles. 

“Don’t you hurt him!” You scream.

Felix has his arms around your waist, holding you from running to Hyunjin’s side. He’s stronger than you by a long shot but that doesn’t stop you from struggling in his hold. “Let go of me Felix, right fucking now, I swear to God--”

Chan stands in front of Hyunjin, firmly blocking your view of your boyfriend. Chan smiles through his tears. “Sweetheart.”

“How dare you hurt him? Hyunjin, are you okay? Why did you let him punch you?” You ignore Chan and speak to Hyunjin instead.

Hyunjin moves his jaw, bringing his fingers to his face, gingerly touching where Chan punched him. “She’s mine, you know. She’s bonded to Felix so you didn’t accidentally kill me and kill her, but that doesn’t stop her from being completely mine.”

“You did always play dirty to get what you wanted,” Chan spat.

“It could have been us!” Hyunjin screams. “All you had to do was share, was that too much to ask?” he adds a little bit more quietly.

“She was mine first!” Chan shouts back. “Of course it was too much to ask!”

It was silent until you broke it.

“What the fuck are you two talking about?”

You’re no longer struggling in Felix’s hold. You turn in his hold. “Felix?”

“You were mine,” Chan sniffles. Tears are pouring down his cheeks. “We were all friends, once.”

Your face screws up in utter confusion. “No. I remember every single moment of that. I don’t know who you are.”

“We were all clubbing when we found a vampire's nest.” Chan’s shoulders are trembling as he sobs silently. “I turned them down when the ancient vampires pointed to me, saying I was worthy, strong enough to be a vampire. Hyunjin pushed forward to offer himself instead, dragging Felix along with him. He knew this was his chance to take you. He had always coveted you and he knew Felix wanted you too.”

Felix’s grip on you loosened in response to his clear guilt. “Chan--”

Chan sends a cutting glamce to Felix. He refused to hear an apology from the younger vampire's lips. “No, I knew all along, I knew both of you wanted her. But I never knew you’d both go to such lengths to take her from me.”

Hyunjin laughs and coughs. “If you two were meant to be, how could we take her away?”

Chan turns around to hit Hyunjin but your hands wrap around his arm, stopping him.

“No!” You cry out. 

Chan’s in clear pain, his head tilting as he gazes down at you. “It’s not real what you feel for him, Sweetheart.”

You shake your head. “Don’t call me that.”

You let go of Chan’s hand and kneel down before Hyunjin. “Tell me he’s lying.”

Hyunjin cups your head with one hand. “Of course he’s lying. You’ve always been mine, pretty.”

Minho makes a noise of disgust in the back of his throat. “Your mind broke when they turned you, Hyunjin. You weren’t strong enough. Your mind broke when you realized they refused to turn her for you. Then you hypnotized her into feeling the twisted love she has for you. Then you made her forget about Chan. About us.”

“The sweet blood must always be protected,” Jisung whispers.

“Sweet blood?” 

“When you’re cut, you see the future,” Chan supplies. His voice sounds empty and desolate. “It was my job to protect you, to make sure you never got hurt and instead…”

Changbin tries to put a hand on Chan’s shoulder but he shrugs it off. He sends a glare towards Hyunjin. “Instead I condemned you to a life of spilling your blood and shortening your life. For every time you look into the future, you lose time off your lifeline.”

“That’s why she’s bonded with Felix now!” Hyunjin shouts. “I thought of everything, you idiot! It’s perfect now!”

“Hyunjin?” Your voice sounds wobbly, unsure. 

“Love, love, love is all you need,” Hyunjin sings. 

“If I’m an idiot then why are you dead?”

Hyunjin’s body jumps as a crossbow whistles through his heart. He smiles softly to you and then his body bursts into ashes. 

“No!” You scream and throw yourself on top of the pile of ashes. “Nononononono,” You sob. “I love you, Hyunjin, I love you! Why? Why did you leave me?”

Chan puts his hand out, to stop any of the other vampire hunters from moving. “It'll take a moment. Just wait.”

With Hyunjin dead, his spell on you should have died too. 

Except you continued to cry into the ground, beating your fist on the tile. 

Felix shoots a look at Chan before he gathers you up. “I think… I think you foresaw Hyunjin’s death, pretty. I think he knew he was dying tonight. I think--”

You slap him. “Are you saying this is my fault?”

“What happened tonight is no one’s fault except for Hyunjin’s,” Minho clucks his tongue in disappointment.

“No vampire will ever bleed you ever again on my watch,” Chan vows. 

“What have you done?” You stare up at Chan as if he's burned your world down around you.

Chan can’t keep your gaze. The utter heartbreak in your eyes kills him worse than his self-torture. “I’ve saved you. I can’t do anything about how short your life is now but I plan to make up for every minute I’ve lost being with you.” he says gruffly.

“All that training, all that hunting,” Jisung whispers. “You said we were going to save them. You said we’d save them all.”

“You're kidding yourself if you thought Chan wasn't going to kill Hyunjin when we found them. The only reason Felix isn't dead is because his death would be the end of hers,” Changbin explains.

“You are more evil than Hyunjin ever was,” You sob. “At least Hyunjin loved me enough to protect me. What have you ever done?”

Chan looks absolutely dumbfounded by your statement. You…actually genuinely loved Hyunjin. Even with your memory back, the clear contempt in your eyes said that you saw him as the villain tonight.

And Chan would have to live with that title for the rest of his life.

🖤Author's Note Post Fic: i just wanted to clarify, in case anyone was confused and i was being too subtle. You (the reader) are under the impression that vampires have an orgasmic bite/venom in their fangs. you only get bitten by hyunjin so that's the pretty lie he's told you. but in fact, when you are cut, you go into an euphoric phase where you speak prophecy. when you speak it, you forget that you did it. hyunjin knows this but keeps it hidden from you because his crazy mind thinks its the bee's knees so to speak. and he doesn't want your mind trying to break out of his hypnotism, nor your mind to break once you figure out your past, what he's done etc. hyunjin likes you sane to his crazy. I hope this clarifies things 🙂

[snuwfies]

handsy ᕱ⑅ᕱ

cw; feminine reader descriptions, unprotected piv, overstim(?)

nanami gets handsy with you all of the time. whether it be in public or at home, his hands are bound to be on some part of your body.

he’s very into hands on skin contact. not that you minded much. though when you two got married years before you found it annoying.

he always wanted to be around you or in better words, inside of you.

his pudgy cock head prodding against your cervix as he lazily pumped into you from the side, or had you in a filthy mating press, standing, it didn’t matter.

oh it was hard to get nanami off of you the first few years. even now, his sex drive was very high.

his throbbing cock was slowly sliding in and out of your creamy hole. it had been hours and he would not let up.

your sore cunny was puffy and swollen from the multiple rounds and creampies he gave you.

your cunny overflowed from his old cum but he still kept moving his hips.

oh and don’t even get me started on your nipples. red and bruised from earlier pinches and abuse. you were fucked out.

your soft tummy caved in as you reached another mind blowing orgasm— your cream creating a soft ring around the base of his overly sensitive cock.

“hnn— can’t— hah, take much— mmffh, more. .”

your soft angelic voice mixed with the nasty squelching noises your fat cunny made had you feeling dizzy.

how many orgasms had you been through to get to this point? you didn’t know. your brain was too fucked out to even remember.

your soft thighs trembled and his large strong hands held them open gently to keep them from closing.

his eyes were half lidded and glazed over with lust. oh you were just adorable all covered in drool and tongue dumbly sticking out.

“oh, shh, shh. you can take more honey, hm?”

he grunts out with a great amount of effort. your dumb cunny didn’t know what it wanted, gripping his pudgy cock so tightly.

the thought of his dumb wife had his dick twitching and his hips slamming forward particularly hard.

you mewl out so cutely— soft hands automatically reaching forward as if you were reaching for something but don’t know what.

“awh, poor baby. you don’t even know what you’re doing anymore— hnn.”

each word is punctuated by a hard thrust, his pelvis slapping against your lower tummy.

he grabs onto your soft twitching hands with one hand to rub your knuckles and uses the other hand to gently travel down your pudgy boobs down to your stomach down to your fat clit, making sure to bring you over the edge again.

you cum around his cock with a shrill cry— your moans mixing with his soft grunts and groans as he pumps his scorching thick seed into your battered cunny.

he pulls out after a few moments and makes sure to clean you off. you’re twitching and experiencing the after shocks of your orgasm.

honestly, he’s not sure you’re even fully conscious.

he picks out your favorite frilly white comfortable panties and pulls them up and over your hips, pulling on one of his shirts over your head.

he makes sure you’re asleep with a kiss to your forehead before he cleans up himself and pulls on some pajamas.

tomorrow he’ll have to try out a new position with you.

[mewkwota]

"One of Lan's most prized possessions."

Very shortly after my previous deal over the photo on Yuichiro's desk, I learned there was in fact one more photo of Hub when he was still alive and it hit me in the most perfect way possible.

(The best part is you can actually see it.)

This is also what I get for wanting to draw something out of my mind in a sobbing frenzy, only for a whole bunch of my questions to get answered. I am so happy. ( ; v;)

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Sex in the suit (Wolverine)

Description: Y/N wants Logan to fuck her in the Wolverine suit

Warning: Smut, Wade

Word Count: 1,123k

Logan looked so hot in his suit. Y/N couldn’t keep her eyes off him. So much so that Wade teases her about it anytime he sees her staring at him. “Ya know I don’t blame you, Peanut looks hot af in that suit.” Wade says, making Y/N giggle. Logan looks over and sees her giggling. He walks over to them, “You making my girl laugh?” He asked jokingly. Wade raises his eyebrows under his mask, “Listen Friendo you have no reason to be jealous. Little Y/N over here has a mask kink.” Y/N’s jaw dropped at that and looked over at her friend shocked. Logan didn’t really have a reaction which worried her even though they were dating. She looked at him worried but he didn’t even look mad or upset. “Wow, are you turning her down? I’ll take you up on that, cupcake.” Logan glared at him. 

“So the suit turns you on?” He asked them as she ate dinner. She chewed slowly and looked at him. “Wrong time to ask, don't ya think?” She asked. He shrugged, “You’re almost done.” He had a point but she was thinking about food not him fucking her in the suit….well shit now she was. “But yeah, especially the mask.” She says. He raises his brows, “really?” He asked.

She can’t think straight when thinking about it. He looked so sexy in it and all she wanted to do was fuck him. She finished her last bite and quickly took the plate from her. She looked at him as he set it on the table. He came over to her and picked her up, making her giggle. “You keep giggling like that, I’ll fuck you right here on the table babygirl.” He growls. “As long as you wear the suit I don’t care where you fuck me.” She purred. He set her on the counter, “stay right here.” He runs out of the room leaving her in her thoughts. She bit her lip just thinking about what was in store.

She decided to help him out by taking off her sweats leaving her in her shirt and panties. Her panties were lace and yellow fitting the vibe. Her panties were nearly soaked. It wasn’t  too much longer that he walked in the kitchen in the suit and he had the mask on as well. Her jaw dropped as if it was the first time seeing him in the suit. He walked up to her and she wrapped her legs around him pulling him closer, “You look so hot baby.” She said and kissed him. The mask made it a little harder but it was still enjoyable. His large hands moved up her thighs to her wet panties.

She gasped in the kiss as he rubbed over her clothed clit. “Fuck you’re wet.” He groaned. She moaned and threw her head back. His finger sped up the pace and his other hand gripped her hip hard, probably leaving a mark. She tried to move her hips but he stopped her, making her whine. “Relax baby. I want to fuck you on my cock.” His deep voice said. She whimpered at his words and he stopped rubbing her. He pulled down her panties and threw them somewhere in the kitchen. He picked her up and turned her around so her ass was up in the air.

“This beautiful ass is just begging for it.” He said, slapping it. She moaned and shook her ass for him. He pulled down his pants and stroked himself a few times before lining up with her wet hole. He rubbed himself against her a few times before sliding in. He was bigger than anyone she’s had sex with prior but so she still was getting used to his size. It took him a minute to fully be inside of her. Her gasps as she got used to him always got him. Once he was in her, he let her adjust before gripping her hips. His grip was tight as he fucked her back on his cock. He wasn’t joking when he said he was gonna fuck her on his cock.

It was long before she was making the loudest noise possible. Luckily Wade wasn’t staying over like he usually would so they both could be as loud as they wanted. “Fuck Wolvy your dick hits all the right spots.” She whines. Never had she called him that before. But by the speed of him slamming her onto his dick increasing, she knew he liked it. “Fuck sweetheart your pussy is so warm and made for me.” He groaned. Her hands had nothing to grip onto, so her fingers dug into the table.

“Right where we eat letting me take you like the dirty whore you are.” She moaned at that and clenched around him. “Fuck baby girl if you do that again I might cum.” He moaned. He rarely ever moaned, just grunts and groans so she almost fell over the edge hearing that sound. “I’m close.” She whined and he grunted. His pace was inhuman fast as he had her fucking him and basically  rearranging her organs. He twitched inside of her and they both knew that words didn’t and couldn’t be said. Her eyes rolled back and she nearly screamed his name as she came all over his cock.

He slowed the pace to let her ride out her orgasm. Little breathy moans left her mouth. He picked up the pace again making her whine out of sensitivity. “I know, baby. Daddy’s almost there.” He grunted. His hands squeezed her hips hard and he came inside of her not caring about protection. She gasped feeling his cum fill her up for the first time. He pulled out of her and watched as his cum spilled out of her. He took his hand and swirled her hole and pushed some of it back in her. She whimpered and he chuckled, “Be kinda hot to see you pregnant with my baby.” He said.

“Yeah that would be hot, Peanut.” They both turned to see Wade in his Deadpool suit sitting on the window. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Logan growled. Y/N hid her body the best that she could from Wade. “Relax. I nearly missed the climax.” Logan growled and stormed up to him after pulling up his pants. “Why are you mad, Peanut? You at least got some action.” He said in defense. “Wade go home.” Y/N whined, annoyed that he saw them like that. “Not the kind of whining I want to hear.” He said and Wolverine’s claws came out. “Leave.” He growled at Wade and he sighed. “Fine. But next time invite me will ya?” “WADE!”

[honey-pages]

On Your Knees - Viktor x Reader

Description -

After confessing his attraction to you, Viktor invites you to visit him in his room.

1.5k words

F/M. 18+. Smut. Blow job.

You had been seeing Viktor now for a week or so, after he expressed his feelings in an unexpected confession. You had been working as his assistant previously and he detailed that he could not, in good conscience, act on his urges when he was in a position of power - as much as you would have wanted him to. Therefore, after your job role changed and you became more independent in your duties, Viktor was back in your line of vision.

It was a well-kept secret that you both were so suited to each other. The other assistants and staff at the lab had their suspicions of your intimacy, but Viktor, noticing the subtle glances, had clarified.

“No, no. Miss (Y/N) is my assistant. I would not take advantage, no matter how charming I may find her.”

You were surprised at his openness. The conversation had gotten back to you through a friend and what could have been understood as a gentle complimentary joke, to you, meant the world. When you finally built up the courage to ask Viktor privately about this, he confirmed. Yes, he had meant it. Although he had also mentioned that a public announcement was not really the way he had intended on doing it.

You had been close since and were still in your early stages of the budding relationship. You decided it was probably time to pay him a visit. He had invited you to his room at around dinnertime. But dinnertime is an ambiguous concept for Viktor as he eats when he can fit it in, and so knowing what time to arrive was a risky decision.

You made a guess that around now was the right time and so you set out for his room. It was oddly quiet around and the walk between your rooms was not too far, you only passed a few people and no one you were well acquainted with. You approached his door after a long corridor. He had told you previously when he had invited you over to just walk straight in and not bother knocking, but that felt a little strange not knowing if he was expecting you or not. Nervousness made its appearance, and you paced slightly while considering your options. There must be a reason that he would encourage you not to knock. This was Viktor. There was probably some unknown secret project that was sound sensitive or something along those lines. You decided to walk in without knocking.

Viktor's door opened silently into a hallway which, in turn, opens into his living and workspace. His work desk is in his living room you remembered, although the light suggests that he is currently on his sofa. You put down your bag and kick off your shoes – its polite practice. You quietly turn the corner to face his living room, hoping to not disturb him by chance he was sleeping or working. In front of you, central to the sofa, Viktor sat with his hand around his cock.

His head was fallen back against the backrest of the chair and his eyes were closed. His mouth hung open, his face jerking around with the furious motion of his arm. He was panting, lost in the pleasure he was giving to himself. You had not seen him like this before. Sure, you had shared a kiss or so and light touching, but to see him so primal and vulnerable, so explicit. Standing and watching as he pleasured himself ignited some deep lust you had not yet unleashed for him, something strong and needy and -seeing him like this? - desperate.

His raw moans seemed to bring out vague words, peppered with the sound his hand made when reaching the bottom of his shaft. A repeated light slapping sound.

“Oh, fuck- “He choked out, softly to himself, as though he was struggling for breath. “(Y/N) …”

You freeze up a little bit at your mention. It suddenly made the situation so real, so red, so lustful.

“Yes?” You reply hushed, in fear of startling him, marvelling at him as though he was some mysterious undisturbed presence.

He jolted in his seat a little at your reply.

“How long have you been watching?” He managed, his grip loosened and slowed, now taking twice as long from tip to base, but not ceasing. A blush swept his face.

His hair fell around his face as he raised his head forwards, fixing his eyes on you the second they opened. He held you there in intense intimacy. You had no idea what to reply. You did not want to give the impression you had stood there fixated for too uncomfortably long. But how long had you been stood there? You had no idea. You were lost in this train of thinking when the thought of him reemerged.

“I um- Just a minute I think?” Was all you could string together; you were flustered seeing him like this.

“Come here” He purred, patting his knee with his free hand.

You approached him carefully, stomach in knots.

“Please, Miss (Y/N), on your knees”.

You lower yourself before him, settling yourself between his thighs on your knees.

“I really did mean it when I said I found you charming.”

He smiles warmly, his hand still slowly stroking himself. His gaze is intense, focused and fixed. He looks into your eyes, maybe watching the reflection of the light in them that made them glint, or maybe watching the outline of his cock in their reflection. It was unbreakable. The bond between you was powerful, inevitable even.

“Now please, (Y/N), open your mouth for me.”

You moved your face forward, level with him. His intense focus eased to a warmer output of eager want, his eyebrows hiking up at their insides, his face ready to melt itself into the open-mouthed submission he was offering you. You cast him a smile in return, a guarantee that you will satisfy. Your mouth salivated, and you hold him gently in one hand, lowering your mouth to run your hot tongue from the base of him to the top.

He shudders instantly, gripping the base of the sofa more firmly with his legs to steady himself, his head falling back once more, breaking the eye contact. His hand is propped lightly against his thigh, and at this sensation he tenses and flexes his fingers. Trailing your way up and down him, you flick your tongue over the tip, before engulfing him into the heat of your wet mouth. At this, his eyes open, and he stares breathlessly at the ceiling. Both of his hands come to meet at the back of your head and fix themselves into your hair, holding firmly but gently.

“Oh, fuck.” He mutters out a few unintelligible words before he settles on some that are understandable, “Your mouth- you’re…please, slow down.”

His grip in your hair holds tighter as his hips begin to jerk themselves upwards, betraying his composure. His eyes flash down to ensure he’s not choking you in doing so, he knows his size is more than adequate.

“Do you mind if I?” He asks, beginning to slowly take control of your head, moving it at his will to use your mouth as he wishes.

“No, you don’t mind, do you? You look too content in the knowledge that you’ve almost tipped me over the edge already Miss (Y/N).” A small grin seeps into his smile, dirty and knowing.

You work hard on matching the rhythm he is setting you with the pace of your tongue. You wrap it around him and swirl it in time with his upward thrusts, pushing and pulling him further into your mouth, to fill and force his way into the barrier of your throat. Your spit is beginning to drip at the corners of your mouth, down your chin, and he notices, wiping it away with his fingers.

“So very beautiful. I have always thought so, but now its undoubtable. You are going to swallow all of me, aren’t you?”

You nod in satisfaction; you can’t wait to see him undone. At your consent, he speeds up once more, becoming more frantic and fast without sacrificing his gentle hold. His whimpers turn into moans and expletives and his throat is purring. You feel him get harder and stiffer under your hands and tongue as he comes to his end.

“I’m going to- “He pants, “Its- “

You push him deeper than before, holding him there as you feel his cock spasm, pulsating as it thrusts forward, filling you fully.

“Oh fuck, (Y/N)- “

You swallow him. He wheezes as he catches his breath back, red faced and sweating, he sits still for a moment. After resting for a few moments, stroking your hair with his hand, he pulls you up onto the sofa next to him. He draws you close, wrapping his arms around you and bringing your head to his bare chest.

“I got quite carried away there.” He manages, hands finding their way to your shoulders, moving to tilt up your chin to face him. “I didn’t go too fast, did I?”

You smile and shake your head as a reply, seeing him fully relaxed and finished has left him dishevelled and hot and his warmth is meting into yours as you lay on him.

“I think it’s time I return the favour.”

[pandapetals]

Faking It

During sex, you fake an orgasm causing Logan to spiral. Once he confronts you about it, he wants to prove he can make you feel good without faking it.

logan howlett x fem!reader - established relationship, no reader description, no y/n used, faking an orgasm, self-loathing logan, slight angst, imagined worst logan but this gives dofp!logan too, vibes, smut, feral logan, p in v sex, oral, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie 

a/n: idea from @yxtkiwiyxt - it ate away at my brain and being on my period really caused this to be born

divider credit: @enchanthings

Logan could feel everything. Every shift in your body, every flicker in your expression, every whispered contradiction between what you said and felt. He didn’t just sense when you lied—he absorbed it, like static in the air before a storm.

Now, with your body beneath his, every nerve in him was attuned to you. The heat of your skin pressed against his, the rhythmic creak of the mattress, the broken gasps you offered him—it was intoxicating. Yet it wasn’t enough. Something was off.

The faint furrow of your brow was his first clue. At first, he thought it was pleasure, that delicious kind of tension that came right before you unraveled. But then he felt the subtle stiffness in your thighs, the shallow way you breathed, and a flicker of doubt crackled through his chest. The feral part of him that craved, that demanded—urged him forward, driving him to thrust harder, deeper, desperate to coax something real out of you. He growled low in your ear, his voice rough with need.

“C’mon, pretty girl… make a mess for me,” he rasped, his teeth grazing the delicate line of your jaw.

You whimpered, but it wasn’t the sound he was chasing. And when the moan came—high-pitched, trembling, but hollow—it hit him like a cold slap to the face. It wasn’t real. He knew it wasn’t real.

His hands tightened on your hips as frustration swirled with something darker, something that felt too close to shame. His feral side snarled inside him, demanding he keep going, demanding release, and for one selfish, fleeting moment, he gave in. He pushed through, riding the edge until he spilled into you with a broken groan, collapsing onto the bed beside you as his chest heaved.

The room felt too quiet after, too still. Your fingers trailed idly over his chest, your touch soft and featherlight, but Logan’s body felt stiff beneath your hand. He turned his head, searching your face in the dim light, and when you offered a lazy smile, it was like glass shattering in his chest.

“I make you feel good, gorgeous?” he asked, his voice low and soft, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe he didn’t want to hear the answer.

“Uh-huh,” you murmured, snuggling closer to him like it was nothing. Like the lie wasn’t still hanging heavy in the air between you.

Logan wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t oblivious. That tiny, fake little moan echoed in his ears, replaying like a bad song on repeat. And it hurt. God, it hurt. He’d been in your bed, in your body, but not once had he felt like he was truly with you. Not tonight.

Still, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there as his thoughts churned. He held you close, feeling your breathing slow as sleep crept in, and though his arms tightened around you protectively, his mind refused to rest.

Why had you faked it? Was it him? Something he’d done—or something he hadn’t done? Did you not trust him enough to tell him? The questions coiled in his gut, twisting and knotting until frustration and hurt blurred together in a haze of anger. And yet, despite the heat crawling under his skin, he couldn’t bring himself to wake you. Not now. 

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. Logan didn’t let things go easily—especially not when it came to you.

But figuring out how to bring it up? That wasn’t his strong suit. For a whole day, he sat on it, the frustration gnawing at him like a splinter buried too deep to pull out. He replayed every moment in his head: the way your body tensed, the way your fake moan had grated against his ears, the way you had smiled afterward like nothing had happened. By the time the sun had begun to set again, the weight of it had him wound so tight it felt like a rubber band about to snap. And, unfortunately for Wade, Logan’s rubber band tended to snap loudly.

The bar was dimly lit, its usual haze of stale beer and cigarette smoke clinging to the air. Logan sat nursing a whiskey he’d barely touched, his mood written all over his face. Wade, of course, was oblivious—or maybe just ignoring it. He leaned on the counter beside Logan, rambling on about some escapade Logan hadn’t bothered to keep track of. His jaw clenched tighter with every passing second until Wade finally poked the wrong bear.

“You’ve been pissy all day,” Wade said, squinting at Logan like he was examining a strange animal. “Let me guess, you finally found someone who doesn’t think your claws are sexy? Or—oh, wait—” Wade’s face lit up with a spark of mischief. “You’re telling me you couldn’t make your girlfriend orgasm?”

Logan stiffened.

“Oh, peanut,” Wade gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like he was genuinely heartbroken. “Say it ain’t so! The big bad Wolverine, all growls and muscles, and—nothing? Nada? No fireworks?”

Logan’s hand slammed down on the bar, the sound sharp enough to make a few heads turn. He rounded on Wade, eyes blazing, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about, so maybe shut your damn mouth before I shut it for you.”

Wade blinked, and there was a beat of silence—a rare occurrence for him. But it lasted all of two seconds before his lips quirked into a grin. “Ohhhh, I hit a nerve, didn’t I? Don’t worry, champ, it happens to the best of us. Well, not to me, obviously, but—”

“Wade.” Logan’s tone cut through the air like a blade. The room seemed to drop a few degrees as Logan pushed himself up from the barstool, his knuckles white against the edge of the counter. Wade threw up his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright! Geez, no need to go full Wolverine on me.” Wade stepped back, but not without muttering under his breath, “Touchy subject, huh?”

Logan ignored him. He grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the bar, his mind racing. Wade might be an idiot, but even idiots could land a hit when they weren’t aiming. The truth was, the jab had struck too close to home. He didn’t care about the idea of failure, not really—not when it came to anyone else. But with you? It felt like a crack in something he hadn’t even realized was fragile.

When Logan got back to your shared space, you were curled up on the couch, your feet tucked under you as you watched TV. The sight of you—so calm, so untouched by the storm that had been raging inside him all day—made something snap loose in his chest. He couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Can we talk?” His voice was gruff, but quieter than you expected, almost hesitant.

You glanced up, surprised. “Of course. What’s wrong?”

Logan ran a hand through his hair, pacing a little before settling on the edge of the coffee table in front of you. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Last night,” he started, his voice strained. “Somethin’ was off. I know it. You know it. And I can’t stop thinkin’ about it.”

Your stomach twisted, guilt pooling in your chest. “Logan, I—”

“You faked it,” he said bluntly, cutting to the heart of it. His eyes finally lifted to meet yours, and the vulnerability there nearly knocked the wind out of you. “Why?”

The word hung in the air between you.

You swallowed hard, turning the TV off and shifting in your seat. “It wasn’t you,” you said quickly, wanting to get that part out first. “I mean, it wasn’t because of you. It’s… me.”

His brow furrowed, and he leaned back slightly, his arms crossing over his chest as he studied you. “What does that mean?”

You took a deep breath, your hands twisting in your lap. “I’ve been in my head lately,” you admitted. “I’ve been… struggling. With work, with stress, with feeling like I’m enough. And I guess last night, I just—” You hesitated, looking away. “I didn’t want you to feel like you weren’t enough. So I faked it.”

Logan stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he exhaled a low sound that was more frustration with himself than anything else. “Darlin’,” he said, his voice softer now. “You don’t have to fake anything with me. Ever.”

“I know,” you whispered, your throat tight. “I just… I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me?” Logan’s voice sharpened, and he leaned forward again, his hands reaching out to take yours. “You think that’s what this is about? I don’t care about some… performance. I care about you. And if somethin’s wrong, I wanna know. I wanna fix it, not pretend it doesn’t exist.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you gave a small nod. “I’m sorry,” you murmured.

He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. Just… tell me when something’s wrong, okay?” His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, his voice softening again.

You managed a small smile, squeezing his hands. “Okay.” 

Logan’s lips brushed your forehead before he pulled you into his arms. His touch was warm, and grounding, but there was something beneath it—something deliberate. His hands settled on your hips like he was afraid you might pull away.

“Now,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “let me make you feel good.”

You tilted your head back to look at him, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “Logan, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine—”

He cut you off with a shake of his head, his thumb brushing over the curve of your waist. “No, you’re not,” he said plainly, his tone gruff but tender. His eyes met yours, intense and unwavering, and his lips quirked into a faint smirk. “You’re stressed. I can see it. I can feel it.”

Your breath hitched as his hands slid down your arms, calloused fingertips trailing a path that sent shivers racing across your skin. “Let me take care of you,” he said, his voice softer now, more coaxing.

And honestly? There was no denying it. The idea of Logan worshipping your body—of losing yourself in the way he always seemed to know exactly what you needed—was too tempting to resist. You swallowed hard, your lips parting slightly as his gaze dropped to your mouth.

“I mean…” You tried to keep your voice steady, but it wavered as his hands slid lower, settling on the backs of your thighs. “If you insist…”

Logan let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Oh, I insist,” he drawled, his grip tightening just enough to make your stomach flip. Before you could process the thought, he was lifting you with ease, his strength as effortless as it was intoxicating.

The world tilted as he carried you to the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He laid you down with a kind of reverence that made your chest ache, his broad frame hovering over you. His lips found the delicate curve of your neck, and your breath hitched as he kissed his way down, the scrape of his stubble sending sparks skittering across your skin.

By the time his hands found the waistband of your underwear, you were already melting under his touch. He peeled them off slowly, his eyes darkening as they roamed your bare skin. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice thick with desire.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words dissolved into a soft gasp as his lips trailed lower, his mouth hot and insistent against your collarbone. His hands gripped your hips, grounding you as he shifted lower, and the anticipation coiled in your stomach like a live wire.

“Logan,” you whispered, his name slipping from your lips like a plea.

He glanced up at you, his smirk returning as he settled between your thighs. “Relax, darlin’,” he murmured, his hands spreading your legs with deliberate care. “Let me take my time with you.”

The first press of his mouth was soft and exploratory, but it didn’t stay that way for long. Logan was nothing if not thorough, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes that left you breathless. He watched your every reaction, the flicker of his eyes on you making it clear he was entirely in control—but completely devoted to you.

Your hands tangled in his hair as the tension inside you built, his name falling from your lips in broken whispers. He hummed against you, the vibrations making you arch into him, and he responded by gripping your hips tighter, holding you in place as he worked you closer and closer to the edge.

And when you finally came undone, shuddering and gasping beneath him, Logan didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow.

“Logan,” you gasped, your voice trembling as your body shook with aftershocks.

“Not done with you yet, pretty girl,” he rasped, his voice low and gravelly. His lips curved into a wicked grin, and before you could catch your breath, he dipped his head again, his mouth finding you with renewed purpose.

Time blurred after that, the world narrowing to the feel of him, the sound of him, the way he seemed utterly consumed by the act of worshipping every inch of you. By the time he finally let you catch your breath, your body was boneless, your mind a haze of blissful exhaustion.

Logan crawled up the bed, his lips brushing over your temple as he pulled you into his arms. His hands, still warm and steady, skimmed over your back, grounding you in the aftermath of it all.

“Better?” he asked, his voice soft now, full of quiet satisfaction.

You let out a shaky laugh, burying your face in his chest. “You could say that,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin.

Logan chuckled softly as he kissed the top of your head. His hand rested against the small of your back, fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin. “Good,” he murmured, his tone laced with smug satisfaction but dripping with affection. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

You nodded weakly, still catching your breath, your body feeling boneless in the aftermath of his touch. Every nerve was still humming, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady yourself. But then you felt it—a shift in the air, a change in the weight of the bed as Logan leaned forward.

Your eyes fluttered open just in time to see the smirk tugging at his lips, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief. He hovered above you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off his body.

His lips brushed over yours in a soft kiss making your heart stutter. “Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely above a whimper.

“I know,” he replied, his breath warm against your lips. “But I’m not done with you yet.” His voice was a low growl, rough edges softened by something tender and utterly consuming. “I just want to make you feel so good.”

You let out a breathless laugh, your head sinking back into the pillows. “You did, Logan. I promise—”

He cut you off with a smirk, the curve of his lips playful and dangerous. “Okay, then,” he drawled, his tone dropping to something darker, something that sent a shiver down your spine. “If you’re good, I want to hear you whimper my name.”

Before you could protest—or agree—his hand slid down your body, his touch slow and deliberate. His calloused fingertips brushed over your stomach, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, before they dipped lower, tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Your breath hitched, your body instinctively arching toward him as his hand moved closer, teasing and torturously slow. Logan’s gaze never left yours, and the intensity in his eyes made your pulse race.

“Logan…” you moaned softly, his name slipping from your lips like a reflex as his fingers finally slid between your thighs.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble of satisfaction. His touch was firm but unhurried, exploring you with a focus that made your head spin. His thumb moved in a way that had your legs trembling, and when his fingers pressed exactly where you needed them, your back arched off the mattress, a gasp spilling from your lips.

“God, you’re perfect,” he muttered, almost to himself, as if he couldn’t quite believe the way you were unraveling beneath him. His free hand gripped your hip, holding you steady as he worked you closer and closer to the edge, the tension coiling tighter with every stroke.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak—all you could do was feel. Logan was relentless, his lips brushing against your neck, your collarbone, and your shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses that made your skin tingle. He alternated between soft and demanding, his touch a perfect balance of control and devotion.

“Logan,” you whimpered again, your voice breaking on the syllable as the pressure built impossibly high, teetering on the edge of something devastatingly good.

“There it is,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire, his lips ghosting over your ear. “That’s my girl.”

The words sent a jolt of heat straight through you, and with one more perfectly placed movement of his hand, you shattered. Your body arched into him as pleasure crashed over you, wave after wave, his name tumbling from your lips like a prayer.

Logan didn’t stop right away—he worked you through it, his hands steady, his lips murmuring quiet praises against your skin as you rode out the high. By the time the tremors subsided, you were trembling, your body utterly spent.

He finally pulled his hand away, his touch leaving a trail of warmth in its absence. Logan leaned down, brushing his lips over yours in a kiss. 

“Still with me, darlin’?” he asked, his voice soft, his smirk replaced with something gentler as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

You managed a weak nod, your body still buzzing, and Logan chuckled, the sound warm and rumbling.

“Good,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms. His hand slid up your back, holding you close as your head rested against his chest. “Because I think you’ve got one more in you.”

You let out a breathless laugh, your cheeks flushing. 

“What?” Logan murmured, his smirk teasing and wicked as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. His breath was warm against your skin, and the way his lips lingered made your stomach twist with anticipation. “Told you, I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you could reply, his hands began their slow descent, tracing the curves of your body with deliberate care. His palms were warm and rough, gliding over your hips and your thighs. Every touch felt like a promise he had no intention of breaking.

“Logan…” you started, but your words dissolved into a shaky exhale as his fingers found the sensitive spot just above your knee, kneading gently before sliding higher.

He shifted above you, his movements unhurried, his gaze dark and hungry as he took in the sight of you sprawled beneath him. “You can take it,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

You watched as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants, the fabric slipping down his hips in one fluid motion. The sight of him, the sheer confidence in how he moved, made your breath catch. He tossed the pants aside without a second thought, his smirk deepening as he leaned back over you, his body heat radiating against your skin.

“Give me one more,” he murmured, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear. His tone was soft but commanding, his words rolling over you like a wave, pulling you under.

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up, though it was breathless, tinged with disbelief at his sheer audacity. “I thought this was supposed to be about me feeling good,” you teased, your voice light, though your heart was pounding.

Logan’s lips quirked into a lopsided grin, but his eyes burned with intent. “Oh, it is,” he drawled, his hand sliding down to grip your thigh, pulling you flush against him. “But I’m pretty damn sure you’ll feel real good giving me what I want.”

The heat in his gaze sent a fresh rush of anticipation coursing through you, and you felt your teasing resolve falter. His fingers trailed over your skin, mapping every inch of you as if he were committing it to memory. When he shifted lower, pressing his lips to your collarbone, then to the soft curve of your breast, his mouth was hot and insistent, each kiss drawing soft gasps from your lips.

You barely had time to process the way his teeth grazed over your skin, sending sparks skittering down your spine, before his hips pressed against yours, his body slotting against yours perfectly. His movements were slow at first like he was savoring every reaction he pulled from you.

Then Logan whispered, husky and dripping with that dark, primal edge, “I want you to feel it everywhere, darlin’—every inch, every second. No faking this time.”

Your breath hitched, the intensity in his voice making your head spin, your body arching into him in a silent plea. Logan’s lips curved into a knowing smirk against your skin. His hands were everywhere—gripping, teasing, worshiping—making it impossible to think, let alone resist the pull of him.

As his mouth found yours, the kiss was all-consuming with the addictive mix of dominance and tenderness only Logan could manage. You clung to him, your hands sliding over the planes of his back, your nails digging in just enough to make him groan against your lips.

“You feelin’ good yet?” he teased, his voice low and rough, thick with need. His lips hovered over yours, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath, but not quite touching, a maddening taunt that sent a fresh wave of anticipation rolling through you.

Your fingers curled against his shoulders, desperate to ground yourself as his pace shifted. He moved deeper, his hips rolling in a way that made your back arch off the bed, a gasp tumbling from your lips before you could stop it. The deliberate rhythm he’d kept moments ago began to unravel, his movements growing more intense, more insistent.

“Logan,” you whimpered, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, shaky and breathless.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he growled, his voice rumbling in his chest like a distant storm. His lips brushed over your jawline, leaving a trail of heat as they trailed down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. When his teeth grazed your skin, a soft cry escaped you, your body tightening beneath him.

He groaned low, the sound vibrating against your neck, as your nails dug deeper into the muscles of his back. “So good for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with praise.

Your response came in broken gasps and soft whimpers, your head falling back as the sensations overwhelmed you. Each thrust was deliberate, calculated, but they grew harder, deeper, until your body melted into the mattress, pliant and trembling under him.

The tension in your stomach coiled tighter, white-hot, and electric until it felt like you might come undone. You couldn’t think, speak—could barely even hold on—your body responding to him instinctively, as though it were made just for this.

“Look at me,” Logan rasped, his voice pulling you back to him. Your eyes fluttered open, dazed, to find his gaze locked on yours, burning and unrelenting. “That’s it, pretty girl. I want to see you.”

His hips pressed into you again, hitting the spot so devastating that your eyes rolled back and a broken cry escaped your lips. You clung to him, your body trembling as pleasure surged through you, raw and overwhelming. His name spilled from your mouth in a whisper, soft and reverent, and it only seemed to spur him on.

“Good girl,” he muttered, his voice rough and frayed, his movements driving you higher and higher. “Just like that.”

When you finally broke, the world seemed to splinter apart, the sensation crashing over you in waves so intense you could hardly breathe. Your body arched into his, your thighs shaking as your release consumed you, dragging you under.

Logan slowed, his touch gentler now as you trembled in his arms. He pressed soft kisses to your neck, shoulder, and temple, breathing heavily and unevenly against your skin.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice softer now, warm and teasing as his lips ghosted over yours.

You managed a weak nod, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks, and he chuckled, his breath tickling your cheek.

“That’s my girl,” he said, his tone low and full of quiet pride. He tucked you closer against him, his arms wrapping around you protectively, and you let yourself melt into his warmth, utterly spent but completely safe in his embrace.

[norikuna]

CREAM SODA — gojo satoru minors dni

prologue. → you've always known that gojo satoru is a real piece of work. arrogant, haughty. definitely has a praise kink for when people always call him 'the strongest.' but you're not even friends anymore, so this isn't any of your business...right?

what you didn't know is just how nasty he is, caging you in front of a mirror to lick away blood that he spilled from the veins of another man, one who dared to touch you.

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. secondary love interest in the form of a random oc, jjk lore being mildly twisted, history around the world, in-jujutsu universe (not an au), gojo going feral and batshit bonkers, rough séx, créampíe, INSANE glass-shattering jealousy, hate séx but only a bit, brééding, oràl (f. receiving). enemies to lovers, former friends, PLOT AND WORLD BUILDING BTW this isn't pẃp, éxhibitionísm, mirror séx, overstímulàtion, bratty reader but with a reason to be a hater, working together on a mission, mentions of alcohol and the crime underworld, DEFINITELY a bit dark because reader goes through emotional whiplash, descriptions of a fight and heavy injury, biting because i always somehow write gojo as a vampire type of freak?? the PRIME example of the miscommunication tropes and a case where neither person is in the right...nuance is your friend here, fake bodyguard!gojo, reader wears a dress + makeup for a formal event, angst, hurt, lashing out, some comfort and fluff

excerpt: part of you knows that you just aren't seeing those pearly gates of heaven.

you know there's going to be a bouncer at the doors, with your face printed on a photo titled: dni! fraud! liar! the world's most incompetent jujutsu sorcerer! would bounce into a criminal's bed at first chance!

word count. 22k!!!!!!! AURKAY!! song inspiration. cream soda — exo, is there someone else — the weeknd

a/n. spent way too long trying to learn ps for the header 😭 wrote this only because of the new grey suit gojo art <3 there's a secondary love interest in this for the ✨ plot ✨ but he's just a character i made up for this story. i would have used one of the other jjk men but it would made it into an au that i didn't feel like expanding on 😭

mp3.. feel that tinglin', that silky smooth cream, each swirl deepens the flavor, babe. baby, go dumb dumb!

"f-fuck, if i had known it felt like this, would've stuck my fingers in h-her a long time ago," gojo unfurls his fingers that only just separated from your fluttering pussy, and you can only watch.

equally mesmerised as his slender fingers are coated in strands of your slick, clinging to the curves of his short nails and coating them in a mirror sheen.

"have some c-class, gojo! you've lost your fuckin' mind -"

smack!

the dewy pads of his fingers have come down in a harsh arc, slapping right at your throbbing clit, and the jolt sends such an incredible crack of lightning down your spine that you're bucking your hips back up into his hand, back for more.

"some class? hah, 'm not able to do that now, baby," and you can feel gojo shudder under your touch, as you paw at the linen of his black dress shirt, raking your nails over his pectorals, "not when it f-feels like your pussy is about to, fuck, vacuum my fingers off."

"i swear to god, gojo. never say that corny shit a-again."

but it's hard to convey any sense of righteous fury like this. not when he's back to pushing the tapered ends of his long fingers in and out of your tight heat. each brush from the pads of his fingertips leaves you squealing, tugging at the snowy strands on the back of his head.

but gojo's teeth are sharp as they sink into the damp skin of your neck with an almost reverent press, easily snapping through the delicate flesh.

and you're squealing, shocked at how fucking bold gojo satoru has become, whining at how a sharp hiss pulses through you, and you can feel the warmth of blood beginning to bloom and pool over your collarbone.

"shit, 'm sorry, baby. so sorry. but i'm gonna need to see you l-like this," and suddenly gojo snaps away the pussydrunk babble falling from his candied mouth, and he's pressing a searing kiss to your jaw, and the air becomes hazy with the scent of an insanely expensive cologne, cedar and something...sweet, like cardamom.

still, there's hardly time to dissect that.

not when his thick arm is around your waist, handling you until you're smack bang between his legs, right between dark slacks. and gojo has shifted, so your back is flat against the hard planes of his chest, and your knuckles can only grip at the vanity sink. so your eyes can only see your naked torso twisting in the mirror.

"keep your eyes h-here, sweets. on us."

wait. you need to pause this tape, and do a little rewind.

how did you end up here, getting finger-fucked in a luxury five star suite? by the one man on earth that you swore that you could never stand?

(earlier that day)

the chandeliers had been shimmering overhead like stars, each fine crystal caught the golden light and scattered it across the grand lobby, and it was making your eyes flare and twitch.

this entire hotel felt frozen in time, some opulent relic of the roaring twenties, translated straight into tokyo's beating heart.

it was all so...pristine, and gaudy. and even the air carried that faint scent of hefty chanel no.5 and furniture polish.

but hey, this cheque wasn't coming out of your pocket, so who were you to complain?

that's how you rationalised it to yourself, right after a smartly-dressed waiter had floated past with a tray of shimmering champagne, one that you had easily helped yourself to.

ah, fuck it.

let the bill rack up on yaga's card. the least he could do after volunteering you to the higher ups for this mission.

a thick folder rested in your lap, clipped papers inside threatening to spill over from the sheer volume of information, that made your head spin.

of course, it was all courtesy of the jujutsu administration's obsession with drowning sorcerers in needless bureaucracy. and so you leafed through it idly, your thumb skimming over the crisp edges.

names, places, dates, all laid out in haphazard detail.

what a mess, it was a lot, but not enough to fill in the gaps that gnawed at you. the higher ups never gave you everything, fuck, they hated making it easy. still, your eyes caught onto key phrases.

urgent recall of cursed object. yes, that's why you were here. and not enjoying your saturday afternoon at home.

declaration of most expenses covered, in the instances of losing a limb. fair enough, insurance was honestly hell these days.

gain access to the auction being held by the voiceless. find their leader, naoki sato.

you knew of the voiceless, most higher grade jujutsu sorcerers did. a crime syndicate so shrouded in mystery. operating overseas for decades without so much as a cloudy whisper to the general public.

you made an unimpressed face as you kept reading, crinkling sheets under your fingers. smuggling, extortion, and a great deal of unexplained murders that would leave the cast of criminal minds scratching their heads.

how tasteless. still, you weren't the law, each to their own.

however, something made this case different. it made it your apparent problem.

for the voiceless were not your usual ragtag team of ruffian criminals, intent on scamming the vulnerable and sad.

their ranks comprised of wayward jujutsu sorcerers, with a hearty appetite for special artefacts, including cursed objects.

and now here they were, back on tokyo's soil, their hands covered with more than just the regular mundane crimes that could land a man behind bars for life.

you shifted in the plush, sinking seat. flipped to a page that had been practically painted in the most unforgiving shade of neon yellow highlighter.

ah, so this was the cursed object. raijin's amulet.

there was a grainy, slightly off-centre photograph clipped to the top of the document. the image was not much to look out, all washed colours and shadows that clearly didn't speak highly of the skills of whoever was behind the camera.

a circular pendant, a darkened forged creation of bronze and jade, covered in the soot of the ages gone by. spiralled with intricate carvings that reminded you of swirling storm clouds on a summer's evening.

and at it's centre sat a jagged shard of some precious golden stone, rough-hewn at the edges.

you were certain that this was the cause behind the distorted photography, for a modern camera was simply just not meant to capture such high levels of cursed energy.

there was even a faint shape of a dragon coiled around the pendant's edges, with its claws gripping the frame as if guarding it...or imprisoning it.

you weren't sure which. you're not sure you wanted to know which.

the accompanying notes were sparse, filled with frustrated gaps that left you squinting.

believed to be an ancient relic of the heian era. captured from the treasure hoard of the early medieval sorcerer, ryōmen sukuna, after his death.

huh, you hadn't heard that name since your school-days, back when you had poured over fraying history tomes, trying to pen the perfect essay to beat out suguru's flawless grades.

said to be imbued with the power of the lightning deity, raijin. capable of summoning and manipulating thunder, and disrupting various veils and curtains. last known location: the british museum, 1982. current location: unconfirmed.

clearly not an artefact meant to sit behind public museum glass.

dangerous in the wrong hands, and priceless in the hands of all. this must have been at least leagues above your current pay grade.

your thumb hovered over the corner of the page, bruising the white paper underneath as you scanned over the rest of the text, hoping and looking for a section that would be titled: and here's how to track raijin's amulet down and find it, with no bloodshed, and just in time for dinner!

no such luck.

"figures," you muttered under your breath, shoving the folder shut with a disgusted sigh.

this entire mission reeked of playing politics. for years, the voiceless had operated under the radar of other nations, disguising the tell-tale jujutsu as unexplained natural disasters and accidents.

there had been no intervention. they had been untouchable because no-one had the foreign jurisdiction, nor the guts to intervene.

but now, with the voiceless back on home soil, it seemed the higher ups wanted to make a statement. something like 'hey, we're actually useful at our jobs of protecting the jujutsu world!' and who better to clean up their mess than you and...

gojo satoru.

speak of the devil. you glanced up towards the grand entrance of the hotel lobby, as an unfortunate doorman stood by revolving, glass doors.

your...partner strode in, with dark sunglasses perched on his nose, and you scrunched your nose, taking in his appearance.

despite gojo's striking features that could render anyone speechless, he always looked like an odd bird of prey to you.

hawkish with creepy eyes, like a big snowy owl that had been hit by a curse, transforming him and forcing him to assimilate into the world of humans.

"i wasn't sure if you would come," you called, hoping that you masked the bitterness well that he had arrived, and significantly decreased the quality of your day.

"you wouldn't say that in bed," was gojo's snarky, automated reply, before he gave you a mildly embarrassed look, as if his immature mouth moved faster than his common sense did.

"still, sorry to keep you waiting," and gojo was crushing the heel of his boot into the cream marble of the floor, tapping it, all ridiculously long legs in the same uniform dress pants that you also donned, "traffic was hell."

"you don't even have a license," you grouched with a glare that you hoped was sharp enough to cleave time and space, but you stood up all the same, "and i wasn't waiting, i was working."

click! click!

gojo snapped his fingers, reaching for the folder stacked in your arms, "yes, of course you were, sweets," and he clicked his tongue, "now, why don't you hand that to me, and go check us in? i can look over what i need to do, let's get this done before night falls."

the audacity. the absolute nerve. how so typically gojo. swooping in at the last minute for kill shot, as usual, while others poured through all the paperwork, and did all the mental heavy lifting.

"you mean what we need to do, gojo," you snapped, your scowl deepening, "you're the late one. you go check us in."

gojo arched a pale brow, and the corner of his mouth twitched as though he wished he could just unwalk through those doors now, caught between amusement and exasperation. "you used to be so nice. what happened?"

"tsk! i think you happened, gojo. didn't ask to be stuck here with you."

"ah, so you do think about me, at least. but now you're jus' so difficult all the time."

"fuck off, i'm not difficult!" you shot back, before shrinking at the foul look that an elderly couple had directed your way, muttering something about how youth just didn't know how to act indoors, "i'm just saying it's not fair -"

"fine, whatever. don't care, sweets," gojo interrupted, already rolling big, blue eyes and turning away, "i'll go do it. you just stay nice and comfortable here."

and just like that, after comfortably raising your blood pressure (and heart rate), gojo satoru strode off towards the vast front desk, hands shoved lazily into his pockets, as though the two of you weren't on the clock to hunt down and find a dangerous criminal, his syndicate and a cursed object.

you trailed behind him, resisting the violent urge to grab his stupid sunglasses and fling them across the lobby. or stomp on them.

or just sit on them.

meanwhile, your eyes landed on the last and final page of the file, where a bright pink sticky note stood out sharply against the dull black and white of the case file.

final task: retrieve artefact. execute naoki sato on site. alternatively, bring in for execution.

the words were scrawled in thick, impatient strokes of a black marker. the kind that spoke more of efficiency, than humanity.

typical. there was just nothing that higher ups of the jujutsu world loved more than lopping the head off anyone that they deemed inconvenient. quick, clean and final.

still, this decision wasn't your business, not really.

you looked up to see gojo casually leaning against the counter, and his entire demeanour radiated smooth confidence as he spoke to the receptionist.

the sweet-looking woman had fumbled her worlds almost immediately, and she had dropped her pen twice. and he had caught it with an easy smile and wink that would have made you roll your eyes clean out of your skull.

you wanted to gag.

in less than a minute, gojo had the black keycard in his hand, spinning it between his fingers like some trophy as he sauntered towards the elevators.

you sighed as he stopped in front of you, extending the card with a flourish, like a knight presenting a courtier with a wreath of fresh-cut flowers.

"we're here for a mission, gojo. not to get it wet."

the tips of his ears flushed a bright, vibrant red. but his grin didn't falter as he huffed, and snatched the keycard back. leaving your arm floundering in the air before you dropped it.

"how crude. that's not even what i asked her. but still, you're welcome, sweets," he had said, stepping into the elevator and holding the door open for you with an exaggerated stretch of his arm.

"i didn't say thank you."

gojo smiled, tilting his head in that distracting, no. what? in that irritating manner of his, "no need. i could feel the gratitude radiating off you," and he's crossing his arms against his broad chest in a way that made the tailored uniform seem unfairly snug, "warms my heart."

"what if you don't have a heart?

for a fleeting moment, something unreadable flashed in gojo's eyes, irritation easily — but something unrecognisable, but he must have smoothed it away with practised ease. for that same cocky grin returned like clockwork, infuriatingly charming and just as insincere.

"what if it only beats for you?" he shot back, wiggling his fingers dramatically, and the motion was so over-the-top that it leaned closer to sleazy than heartstopping.

"now i'm worried, you need to get shoko to check that out. sounds like a serious health issue."

"your tender concern for my well-being is what keeps my blood pumping," and you know that gojo has little regard for the personal space for others, the way that the distance between you is closing once more, in a way that makes your own pulse flicker.

"please," and you take a deliberate step back to reclaim your own space, "if i wanted you gone, i wouldn't waste my time hoping for a heart attack. i'd do it myself."

gojo shrugs, tilting his head like you had just told him a sweet joke, "you're cute when you're homicidal, y'know that?"

"and you're insufferable all the time. we all have our talents."

gojo's barked out a laugh, and the sound is annoyingly genuine. it has you grinding your teeth together, making your jaw tight.

"hey, gojo," you swivel back to the towering bean-pole behind you, leaning against a steel bar.

"mhm, what?"

"i'll give you a hundred thousand yen if you keep your mouth shut during the entire elevator ride," you mutter, staring at the ground floor map, and up to where your suite was meant to be, hands fiddling over the buttons.

"deal."

you glance back, "that easy? clan money running low, gojo?"

gojo sighs, shaking his (ridiculous) snow-cone hair, "you have no idea. spent it all on a sweet talkin' girl who kicked me to the curb. even took the dog with her. who takes the fucking dog?"

despite yourself and your iron-clad resolution to not validate gojo satoru in anything, you snort, the first genuine laugh he's pulled out of you.

you choose not to notice how his eyes suddenly seem a shade brighter, as you snicker, "you're so ridiculous."

he doesn't reply as you press an index finger into the cool metal of the elevator button, and you turn around to see him sadly miming out his broke plight, with a sack of imaginary things over his shoulder, jingling the few coins he has.

tsk. you bite your lip to stop the corners of your lips lifting up to match gojo's own, wrinkling your nose in faux distaste as you spin back around, with gritted teeth. away from the mild bane of your existence.

true to his word, and shockingly so, gojo stayed silent through the elevator ride. mostly.

you caught his restless sighs, the shuffle of his ridiculously polished boots, and the occasional sharp intake of breath like he was simply dying to say something, but kept biting it back.

good. for once, it was nice to make gojo satoru stew.

the elevator dinged, and you had already stepped out, planning to ditch him in the suite, but clearly, gojo had other ideas.

"alright, sweets," he said, hand extended, "i won the bet. hundred thousand yen, i can take a cheque too."

you stopped short, glaring at his outstretched (sculpted) hand.

"right now? just as we're gonna plan how to catch a criminal? can't we do a pay later type of thing?"

gojo's responding grin was wolfish, and his voice dropped enough to make you bristle, "sure. pay later, with a kiss."

your groan must have echoed down the hall, and without thinking, you shoved past him. your shoulder colliding with his chest in a way that was deeply satisfying.

"my kisses," you snapped, refusing to look back at him, "are worth way more than a hundred thousand yen."

gojo didn't reply immediately, no. and for a second, you thought had finally managed to shut him up enough for a moment's peace to gather the thoughts that the white-haired man always managed to unravel.

but when you dared to glance back over your shoulder, his sharp gaze was fixed on you, and his lips were pressed together oddly — the faintest dusting of cherry pink peeking out underneath his sunglasses, and falling over his cheeks.

nary a peep from gojo then, save for him rushing past you to slot the keycard into the door. but holy fuck, the sheer luxury of this suite almost made you forget that gojo satoru even existed.

sleek dark woods, glowing orange accents, and a massive window that offered a panoramic view of tokyo's skyline. and then, there was the bed.

ridiculous in its decadence. a king-sized masterpiece, draped in plush linens that looked softer than the clouds dotting the afternoon sky. framed by polished ebony bedposts that gleamed in the warm light of the suite. the mattress was practically calling out to you, to sink your back into it.

wait, where was the other bed?

"nope! absolutely not," you blurted, spinning on your heel to face gojo who had sauntered in after you, pausing mid-step and clearly, equally caught off-guard with a stunned expression on his face — before morphing into something maddeningly smug.

"what?" gojo said, leaning casually against the doorframe, "it's a bed. you've seen one before, right?"

you tried to speak in a way that wouldn't quite make it show that you felt like your tongue was lead, jabbing a finger at the bed as though it had personally offended you, "there's only one!"

gojo's lips quirked upwards, his blue eyes gleaming with that irritating mix of amusement and mischief, most likely derived from your displeasure, "now look at that, we can count to ten. baby steps."

"don't start with me," you snapped, "i'm not crashing out there. i'd rather sleep in the hallway."

gojo tilted his head, the white tufts of his hair falling around his face, as though he were considering the suggestion seriously, "not sure the hotel staff would appreciate you loitering in their five-star corridors. won't stop you though, sweets."

"you can sleep on the couch," you try to offer helpfully, relishing in how it's his turn to scowl at you.

gojo's glancing towards the sleek leather sofa in the corner, most likely worth more than your monthly rent, "tempting," he drawls, "but i don't think that thing was designed for someone with legs this long," and he's slapping his hands on his thighs, and you do your very best to not track your stare down.

"then curl up like the overgrown house cat you are -"

"fuck you mean by that?"

"or sleep on the floor!"

"i'm liking these options less and less."

but then gojo straightens, and you're starting to see a small tick reach to the corner of his bright eyes, the faintest hint of irritation seeping through his drawl, "you know, for someone so desperate to avoid me, you spend a lot of time wondering where i'm gonna sleep."

you hate the traitorous flush heating up your face, "i'm thinking about it because you're my problem."

"well i hope i'm at least your favourite problem," gojo murmurs, brushing past you to toss his dark bag onto the bed.

"so, what's it gonna be?" gojo's voice was a lazy purr, patting the mattress beside him with a grin that could have launched a thousand arguments, "join me, or keep fighting a losing battle? because -" he faked a yawn, "i think i'm starting to get a bit sleepy."

"sleepy? you're a grown man, and it's barely three in the afternoon."

gojo arches a pale brow, and you have to force yourself to stop staring at the pink curve of his lips, "and? scared you won't be able to resist me in the middle of the night?"

"you should be scared you'll wake up with a pillow smothering your face."

gojo sighs, melodramatic and loud, rolling over onto his back, "i'd rather be smothered by -"

"gojo!"

his laugh is low and rich, and it vibrates in the air in a way that make your teeth itch, and your eyes roll, desparate to change the subject and actually get back on track.

you shove the hefty file in his direction, letting him flounder to grab a hold of it, "last page. naoki sato."

gojo's entire demeanor shifts, and falls under the mention of the name, eyes a touch darker, and suddenly serious in a way that almost makes you regret being on the clock. but he's pushed himself up from the bed, his legs dangling off the edge.

"what about him?"

you frowned, still turning over the situation in your mind, "well, he's supposedly working out of this district right, i mean, even this hotel? but why? i always thought crime bosses had creepy lairs in dark alleyways or something. and not," you gesture to the five-star architecture around you, "this."

gojo's broad shoulders shrug in that lazy way of his, like everything was beneath him, but there was something else flickering behind his perched sunglasses, "i've never even met him. just heard of him," but gojo seems to be chewing each word, as if choosing them carefully, "but what i've heard? not your typical criminal? he flies high, lives the wild life out in the open, rich and shameless."

you privately held back any biting comment that came to you as easy as breathing, about gojo also being the epitome of rich...and shameless. time and place, yeah?

gojo, thank the lucky stars, had not noticed you fighting demons to keep a straight face, "but then every so often sato vanishes off the radar, and then, bam!" your partner splayed his fingers, "he strikes again. always showing in a different place. the united states, france, england, egypt..."

you raise an eyebrow, tapping at your phone, "egypt?"

"egyptian artefacts are ridiculously powerful, sweets. i mean, on a whole other level. they aren't linked with y'know...jujutsu," he gestures vaguely between the two of you, "but whatever they've got is ancient and ridiculously potent. last the higher ups heard, naoki sato managed to get his hands on an old obelisk."

you shake your head at the prospect, humouring gojo, "whatever for?"

"whatever twisted things he does in his free time, fuck if i know. but of course, he couldn't control it. instead, it summoned the spirit of a massive serpent, killed a bunch of innocent civilians."

you have the faintest collection of the mythos surrounding an ancient serpent, and the thought makes you shudder, "wouldn't the local authorities have arrested him for that?"

gojo pushes his sunglasses up his head, so you're now looking back at unblinking blue eyes ringed by white lashes, "how do you arrest a guy who's practically a ghost? they couldn't even find him after all that shit. besides, his technique is something else. enhance. practically has control over every cell in your body."

you nod slowly, hoping that you're piercing it all together correctly, "so this auction is because he's got more of these artefacts? like raijin's amulet?"

gojo nods sharply, and you're struck by the intensity of big blue eyes with whorls of storm clouds lingering between his gaze, "i guess even villainous criminals want to make profit. but we can get a front row seat to whatever he's planning next."

"and stop him before that."

"right. that's what i said."

your frown deepens, "how the fuck does an entire auction stay hidden from the public?"

after all, you had scoured the floorplan of this hotel from base to rooftop, and not a single room or corner would accomodate naoki sato, and the voiceless that follow him.

gojo shrugs with infuriating nonchalance, his fingers tapping idly against the edge of the bed, "there's jujutsu that can create entire illusions. beneath this very hotel lies an entrance to a hidden ballroom, but it's been in and out of use for decades. we jus' need to slip in, find sato, and maybe shake him a few times until he spills the amulet's location."

you cross your arms, and the unfortunate truth lingers on your tongue, "if it were that easy, the higher ups wouldn't have sent you with me as backup."

"was that a compliment for me? careful, you might actually start liking me now."

and at your affronted expression, laugher is spilling out gojo satoru, sharp and cocky and awfully infectious.

you hated the sound, not because it wasn't nice, but because it was. too rich, too easy. the kind of laugh, from the strongest sorcerer to walk the earth, that made you wonder if ever took a damn thing seriously. with the unfortunate side effect of questioning why it was so annoyingly attractive at the same time.

nobody should get to look that good while being such an unbearable ass. it was unfortunate, you thought grimly, how much you liked seeing him laugh though.

"i don't think i'd ever like you at all, gojo."

but alas, the world has a cruel way of making you wish that the earth swallowed you whole. and your heart and mind certainly aren't on speaking terms with each other to coordinate properly. for the barb flies out of your mouth like an uncontrolled reflex, a rogue arrow hitting its mark.

and you're left grimacing as gojo's smile stills. not vanishing completely, but frozen while something cooler and sharper slips into his gaze. the awkward silence that follows is loud enough to make you wince and pray that a lightning bolt strikes you down right now.

gojo gives a quiet cough, and you're wondering just how much of his nonchalant facade he has left intact. fuck, you were a bit of an ass yourself.

"ah, gojo. i didn't mean -" you started, stumbling over the words, desperate to backpedal, if only for the sake of the mission. right?

"don't strain yourself pretending," gojo cuts you off, and you're mildly stung by the smooth edge of venom coating his voice, despite his relaxed smile, "let's just get this job done, yeah? it's just us two here because no-one else could put up with you. i was the only one left who actually wanted to try."

well. ouch, that was a low blow. motherfucker.

your jaw tighten, and for a moment, all you can do is stare into vibrant blue eyes. surely, that wasn't true...right? and how awful that the sharp look in his eyes softened into a smug satisfaction as he registered how his own barb had found his mark.

now, gojo satoru is leaning back with an air of victory, crossing his arms as if to bask in it. talk about drawing more blood from a wound than necessary.

"you're awful, gojo," you bit out, praying that whatever tremor lives in your throat is not enough to appear in your voice.

"yes, i know. you say that all the time."

it was almost tragic, you thought bitterly, how in those fleeting few minutes, you had found gojo satoru bearable. likeable even. insightful, in his own smug way.

but now, the two of you were back to square one, staring each other down with walls firmly back in place.

sure, your quip had been mildly unnecessary, but it wasn't like he hadn't heard your blithe and bland comments by now?

but still, gojo's words gnawed at you. the idea that no one else wanted to put up with you, except him, of all people, burrowed deeper than it had any right to.

maybe it was petty, but you weren't about to let gojo satoru have the last word.

"remember that the higher ups want naoki sato executed," you said, breaking the terse silence.

gojo didn't even glance up from the file he'd been pretending to skim, his long fingers casually flipping a page. and that nonchalance made your stomach churn with irritation.

when he finally looked up, his expression was a mix of curiosity, and disdain, as if you had become a particularly stubborn puzzle that he'd decided was not worth solving, "yes, i know that too. so what?"

"you and i both know you've had trouble executing criminals in the past."

a calculated jab, sharper than they needed to be. and you saw the impact hit almost immediately. gojo's jaw tightened, and the glint in his frosty blue eyes disappeared, replaced by something darker, furious even.

suguru geto was still well and alive, often appearing on television as a friendly priest who would cure one of all their ails such as lower back pain or bad headaches, for the low price of joining the ranks of his organisation (read: cult). but he still remained a sore point for...everyone. you, included.

gojo, especially.

and now the air between you shifted, chilling like a winter draft had snuck into the room. your eyes fell on gojo's knuckles as they tightened around the file, his expression stony.

you shouldn't have felt proud of yourself for getting under his skin, for pulling a genuine reaction from him. but you did. you'd found a crack in his flawless armour, without needing to bypass infinity.

and it was satisfying.

"f-fuck you," gojo said finally, the razor edge in his voice was matched only by the glare he pinned on you.

you crossed your arms, doing your best to feign indifference despite the adrenaline surging through you. ignoring how you felt an awful pit in your stomach sprout, rendering you rather nauseous, and quoting his previous words, "don't strain yourself pretending it's not true."

gojo satoru's glower could have melted steel, and for a moment, you wondered if you'd gone too far. but he stood, slowly, his movements deliberate as he slammed the file shut with a resounding snap.

you watched as he snatched up his smaller bag, and swung the door open with enough force that you were surprised that it didn't fall off its hinges, "just be ready by the time i get back. 'm gonna take a walk."

and you were left, alone, in a room that suddenly felt so much more suffocating.

you weren't sure how long it had been since gojo had stormed out, leaving the room icy in his absence. you hadn't moved from your spot by the door, though you told yourself that you were entirely fine.

arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin, defiant line. but even as you stared at the dark panels of the door, the lie began to unravel.

you told yourself that you just didn't care for gojo satoru. that you didn't like how he was too loud, too reckless, too overwhelming, a force that just didn't fit into the neat confines of your world.

the heat rising to your cheeks must have betrayed you, as did the tight knot in your chest. it had been...not your wisest choice to lash out at him, or to even bring up his name. suguru geto, a wound that would never close for anyone.

but more than that, you hated the memory of his expression just before he left. hurt, and anger. and something far more raw.

he would come back, you knew that much. gojo was much too dutiful to leave a mission and abandon a chance to do some good in this world. it should have been a comfort, but it did little to ease you. instead, that certainty only twisted the guilt tighter in between your ribcage.

finally, you yanked the door open, fuelled by an impulse you didn't care to name. you wanted to catch him outside, mid-pace and brooding. just so you could say...something. anything.

but the hallway was empty, stark and silent, with only the dim flicker of warm light as your witness. you bit your tongue as your stomach churned sourly with disappointment.

and instead, you just slammed the door shut, letting the sound reveberate with just as much force that gojo had slammed the door with, on his way out. you leaned against the wood, closing your eyes as you did your level best to swallow that lump of regret making a home in your throat.

pacing helped for about...three minutes. shuffling through the case files on the table did nothing but remind you of why you were here, why you had both been sent. after all, was this mission not bigger than you, or him? was this not about bringing naoki sato to justice?

it didn't feel that way.

your gaze landed on the garment bag handing from the chair, untouched from when you had pulled it out earlier, back when gojo had been inviting you...to bed.

sort of.

you unzipped the bag with (mildly) trembling hands, letting the fabric spill into your grasp. no doubt that the dress was beautiful, a masterpiece of icy, powder blue and shimmering sequins that caught the light like scattered stars.

well, this had certainly been worth half your paycheck.

your fingers brushed over the delicate embroidery, and for a moment, you felt a mild sting of your own hypocrisy and yearning heart. you accused gojo of being cold, distant and unfeeling, and yet here you were, holding a dress that reminded you of him in every way. the pale blue of the fabric, like the frost in his storm-eyes when they rested on you for too long.

if you ever came face to face with cupid, you would beat him with a baseball bat.

you sighed, dropping the dress onto the bed before gingerly stepping out of your uniform, as cool air stung your skin.

what had you been thinking, treating gojo like that? he didn't deserve your anger, not truly. you knew how much your former classmate carried, how much he gave himself to this cursed and thankless world.

but of course, the little pronged-devil on your shoulder whispered around the shell of your ear. he often drew equal blood from stinging cuts, no-one wanted to put up with you, anyway.

still, there was no use in showing up to a gathering of some of the world's most rich, wealthy and seedy looking like a hollow and shaken ghost. and this mission was just not about gojo, it was about the greater good of the jujutsu world, and that's what you repeated in your head like a mantra, as you swiped plush-red across your cheeks and lips.

a diamond necklace around your throat was the final touch. well, you say diamond, but the truth was more...cheap. still, the strand shone in linked chains of pretty crystals. and that had still been a minor fortune for one who lived on a jujutsu paycheck.

the hours had stretched the afternoon into evening, settling a fragile calm over the suite that made you ache to stretch your limbs out, and take in some fresh air.

but the silence was shattered by a sharp knock at the door, purposeful and deliberate. and it made you freeze, hands still resting on the straps of your glitzy shoes, a frown knitting your brows.

gojo had the keycard, did he not? but who else would be banging your door down?

with a sigh, you stood and lifted the hem of your dress as you crossed the room. opening the door with every intention of scolding him for whatever drama he was dragging in this time.

instead the words just about died a sad and lonely death on your tongue.

gojo satoru.

for a brief second, your thoughts emptied entirely, as though he had cast infinite void right over you, leaving you staring with a heart that hammered like a caged bird.

gone was his usual, drab uniform. instead, he had swapped the dull fabric for a sleek, black dress shirt that clung just right, paired with a crisp, grey jacket that framed his broad shoulders.

you tried to not let your gaze linger on the open gap right under the white tie that hung slightly loosened from his neck, where silk kissed creamy skin.

but gojo’s face was unreadable, distant and cool. you hated how his mere presence always seemed to tilt the world off its axis.

and you blinked, forcing your mouth to close, and you stepped back to let him in. 

"you’re late. again," you snapped, but your voice lacked its usual venom, tempered by the sharp edges of minor guilt that refused to settle in you.

"whatever. ‘m here now, aren’t i?" gojo’s tone was casual, but his eyes lingered a second too long, leaving your skin prickling with self-conscious awareness. 

it seemed that the universe needed to hit you with some karmic intervention, and you decided to take the rare moral high ground, "about earlier," you began, trying to steady yourself, "i shouldn’t have said -"

"forget it, sweets," gojo interrupted with a shrug, though his jaw was tight, "i’m not keen on hearing excuses. i get it."

you bristled, biting back the immense urge to shove him, an urge that becoming disturbingly frequent, "i wasn’t making excuses," sounding out each word slow and deliberate. anger simmering under the surface at his holier-than-thou attitude, "that was an apology."

that made gojo pause, and now he fully turned to you, expression shifting. though it was hard to read, caught between painful acknowledgement and absurd pride that would include him admitting that he was affected by what you said.

for a moment, he said nothing, and the silence stretched unbearably heavy. but then gojo’s ice-gaze dropped to the necklace scattered over your throat, and he tilted his head, "not too bad," a flicker of a scoff curling at his lips.

"tch, they’re not even real," you blurted, then immediately regretted it, what was wrong with you today? you reached up, fingers grazing the cool crystals as if to shield them from his bemused scrutiny, "just thought i needed something to fit in."

gojo slid a pair of tinted sunglasses from his pocket, sliding them up his nose, smooth and practised, "in a room full of the filthy rich and tastelessly overdressed?" his pink mouth twitched, "you’ll fit in perfectly."

gojo was right. this was just…tacky.

the ground floor of the building had been nothing but a sleek, cold lifeless maze of marble, and now he had led you down into what could only be described as a scene for criminals with bad taste. an abandoned parking lot stretched out in front of you, a grimy stretch of concrete that left you expecting a quiet dead end.

until gojo waved his hand, and the illusion clearly met for non-sorcerer eyes shattered.

before you, a set of massive double doors emerged, seemingly from nowhere, and the lifting of the veil had left you disoriented, nauseous. but when the doors swung open, you almost felt like you were stepping into a warped fever dream.

this room inside was the most bizarre mixture of garish opulence that you had ever seen. gold…everything. the walls plastered in a deep red, like someone had dipped the entire place in velvet swathes and then covered it with more gold leaf.

plush, overstuffed settees sat like soft, jewel-toned thrones in every corner, and glass boxes lined the walls, each holding what looked like nothing more than expensive junk, tacky figurines and diamond-encrusted trinkets.

it was the kind of place you’d absolutely expect a mob boss to call home after a particularly long, indulgent afternoon making questionable life choices.

the hall reeked of wealth, the kind that demanded to be seen. opulence dripped from every corner — gilded fixtures, crystalline chandeliers, and glass displays showcasing treasures that screamed money but whispered nothing of taste. you twitched as you passed a goblet encrusted with enough jewels to buy a small city-state. the thought of how much it probably cost made your stomach twist.

"focus," gojo muttered at your side, his tone clipped. he squinted slightly, his sunglasses doing little to shield his six eyes from the garish light that spilled over the room like liquid gold., and you could tell it was a bit...much for his senses, making him blink rapidly. "we’ll sweep the displays, see if the amulet’s here."

you tilted your head, gesturing toward his snowy mop of hair, the unruly strands falling messily over his face and grazing the edge of his glasses. "and you’re sure they won’t recognise you, in this whole...circus?"

gojo's responding glance was sharp, flat, and utterly devoid of humour.

"most of these people wouldn’t recognise a threat if it was biting them in the ass," he said, voice low and laced with disdain. "they’re not sorcerers. just your garden-variety rich and bored — criminals, trust fund brats, maybe a politician trying to look cultured. the kind of people who buy antiques because they match their curtains and makes them look good for their friends."

the corner of your mouth betrayed you, twitching upward at his cutting dismissal of the glittering nonsense around you. he had hit the nail on the head, making contempt seem like an art form.

and worse, you hated how there was something almost…sexy about it.

the thought hit you like a slap, and you forced it down immediately. gojo and sexy didn’t belong in the same sentence. not in the same universe. fuck, not even as a passing joke.

"charmed as i am by your high opinion of humanity," you said dryly, trying to ground yourself in sarcasm, "maybe don’t make it obvious you hate everyone here. we're not here to arrest every person in this room."

gojo snorted softly, his lips curving into what might have been a smirk — or at least the ghost of one. "you think so little of me. i don’t hate everyone." his eyes flicked toward you, just for a second, before returning to the vast hall ahead.

it wasn’t much. barely a glance of electric blue. but it was enough to send your pulse into a sprint, and fuck him, he had to know it. you turned your attention to the nearest display, praying he didn’t notice the warmth blooming in your cheeks.

traitorous.

"let’s just find the amulet, and sato. and get out of here," you said briskly, your voice a shade too sharp.

"mhm," gojo's voice was infuriatingly calm, but when you looked up, his gaze wasn’t on the displays. it was on you.

"you look lost."

a voice, smooth and low, slid over you like silk, stopping you cold in your tracks. it hadn't come from gojo by your side, thank the heavens above, but it didn't make your heart any steadier. you turned towards the source, and your stomach did a three-point flip.

well. hello, gorgeous.

the type of good-looking that just felt unfair. the type that made you forget your name for half a second, and then hate yourself for it. the strnger stood out against the room of puffed-up men in overpriced suits, glittering with real diamonds of their cuff-links, and rolled cigars in their hands.

your eyes fell on dark auburn strands that fell in perfectly tousled strands over his forehead, and a tailored black suit that hugged a slender waist.

"i hope you didn't wander into the wrong hall," the stranger said, curling his lips into a faint smile, fraught with suspicion as it was.

you forced yourself not to stare — at an absurdly sharp jawline, at big brown eyes. but words were a different matter entirely. you struggled to conjure them, grasping for anything remotely coherent.

you settled on an appropriate response.

"um. no, we didn’t."

not your finest moment. not even close.

before you could mentally regroup with a few brain cells, a sharp jolt yanked you back to reality. you sucked in a sharp breath as gojo's long fingers pinched the underside of your arm, a deliberate sting that left you glaring at him.

he didn’t even bother to meet your eyes.

his entire focus was fixed on the stranger, his posture taut with unspoken tension, gojo's jaw clenched so tight you thought he might crack a perfect tooth.

the air shifted subtly, a faint hum of energy emanating from gojo. you knew that hum. it meant trouble. gojo, ever the master of simmering hostility, was gearing up for something, and he was looking weirdly agitated.

and you found it tasteless to jump the first person you had run into here.

"i usually know most of the guests at my events," the stranger continued, his voice calm, unbothered — but there was an edge to it, like he already knew the answer to the question he hadn’t asked.

oh.

you felt your stomach plummet as recognition dawned.

naoki sato.

no wonder gojo looked ready to snap someone in half. naoki wasn’t just anyone — he was the head of the voiceless. the host of this auction. the man whose fortune was built on enough shady dealings to fill a large library. the one who had more blood on his hands than those who had been dealt life sentences.

one of the most wanted jujutsu criminals in the world.

"you've — " gojo started, his voice sharp, but you cut him off with a forced, almost too-bright smile.

"you've thrown quite the party," you said, your words tripping over themselves as you elbowed gojo subtly, hoping to god he’d take the hint. "i’m actually quite new to the area. just exploring, hoping to find something good tonight."

gojo let out a low grunt, a sound that promised retribution later. you ignored him and plastered on a wider smile, one you hoped would distract from your partner's upcoming reversal: red.

"and, ah. this is my bodyguard...genji," you added, giving gojo's arm a firm retributive pinch through the fabric of his jacket.

the look he shot you could've melted steel, but you held your ground, determined not to let him ruin this.

if for once, he could take your plan into account, a great deal of bloodshed could be avoided.

naoki's faint cherry smile widened, bemused, "your…bodyguard?" he echoed, gaze flickering to gojo satoru.

gojo who stood like a coiled spring, gojo who certainly was no method actor. his icy glare practically speaking volumes of 'i will burn this room down.'

"well," naoki drawled, his tone almost playful now, and you flushed, "i hope you find what you’re looking for here."

behind him, his entourage, a cadre of hulking men stuffed into suits barely containing their bulk, followed with synchronised precision. they looked more like walking fortresses than bodyguards, with their cold and suspicious eyes cutting through the room as they passed.

one of them shot you an odd look, and you forced yourself to feign interest in a nearby display of sapphire-encrusted forks.

the moment the criminal was out of earshot, gojo leaned down, "genji? really?"

you shrugged, ignoring how you felt your nerves fray. and refusing to meet him half-way, "what? okay, i panicked. it was the first name i thought of."

"yeah, that was so convincing," gojo muttered darkly beside you, and you caught some bitten off words about how he was never going on a mission with you again, how yaga should never have roped him into this.

all things you blithely ignored.

you didn’t need to look at him to know he was furious. it rolled off him in waves, the tension in his posture, the barely audible hum of cursed energy still crackling under the surface.

"we don't even know where the amulet is. and imagine if we show up in front of yaga without it. you can do whatever you like with him after we get our hands on the cursed object," you whispered back, pretending to study the ridiculous cutlery with exaggerated focus.

gojo lowered his head, as though he suddenly saw the worth in gemstones embedded in cutlery, but just enough so he could glower at you. "you're flirting," he hissed, "i could have blasted through half this room, and just finished the job by now."

you coughed and hackled, "not all of us think effective battles are fought with a hollow purple."

"and not all of us,” gojo bit back, "feel the need to blush like schoolgirls the second someone bats an eyelash at us."

heat shot through you, part anger, part something you didn’t want to name. "blush?” you snapped. "i wasn’t blushing."

"you just wanted to jump his bones. thought we weren't here to get it wet."

"i'm not entertaining this conversation," but your voice was mildly higher pitched, drawing attention, "is that why you were there? standing like an idiot, or a jealous ex-boyfriend?"

gojo's sneer faltered, just for a split second, but it was enough to make your heart lurch with a strange, vindictive triumph.

"i wasn’t jealous," he said, "i was doing my job. y'know, being a jujutsu sorcerer. bringing a criminal to justice."

you opened your mouth, ready to retort, but no words came. because he wasn’t entirely wrong, and that infuriated you more than anything.

so instead, you lifted your hand, placing it firmly on his shoulder, onto the crisp and fine fabric of his jacket. you didn't miss the way he stiffened, briefly disarmed.

"look, i've got this. just stay close."

gojo's jaw tightened, and you could feel the unspoken protest simmering there. before he could get a word in, you turned away and called out.

"hey! naoki!"

the red-haired man stopped mid-stride, turning his head back toward you with a quizzical look. the confident words you’d planned evaporated the moment his sharp, brown eyes pinned you in place.

"i mean, naoki sato. mr. sato," you fumbled, mentally kicking yourself.

brilliant start. truly one of jujutsu tech's finest.

naoki raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting from confusion to faint amusement. his gaze flicked to gojo, who had crossed his arms like a fortress of disdain and immense ill-will.

"found something you like?" naoki asked smoothly.

you ignored the huff that escaped the white-haired man next to you, and forced a smile, "actually, i was hoping you could help me choose something out. i'm not an expert here, and there's just so much to see."

naoki's bodyguards shifted, their expressions darkening as if you’d committed some unspoken faux pas. but the crime boss merely tilted his head, the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

"ah, well," he said, drawing the word out lazily, "i don’t usually get this forward with my clients, but i suppose i'll make an exception."

his eyes slid once again to gojo, who was now glowering at a waiter hovering too close to his personal space, on the edges of infinity. "your bodyguard," naoki added helpfully, "can walk behind you. perhaps he'd like a drink to keep him occupied."

gojo's snarl could have peeled garish paint off the walls, "i don't want it."

you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the stubborn ass.

instead, you pasted on a smile, tight and sweet, and shot gojo a look that could cut glass, "our host is offering you something. you want that drink, genji."

"i don’t want cream soda," gojo muttered, all mulish in his six foot three glory.

gritting your teeth, you flashed naoki a helpless look, like what can you do? bodyguards, am i right?

and you reached for the waiter's tray, grabbing a tall glass of the offending soda and thrusting it into gojo's warm hand. then you leaned in, your voice a whisper, "take it. smile and act normal. ten minutes, that’s all i need."

for a moment, his blue eyes locked on yours, a storm of irritation twirling in them. you were now close enough to feel the heat radiating off him, close enough to notice the faintest hitch in his breath.

but gojo, for once, didn’t argue. with a final glare, he downed half the glass in one long, defiant gulp, his adam’s apple bobbing as he drank.

naoki laughed, watching the scene unfold with thinly veiled amusement, "you're very kind to the help. shall we?"

you shot gojo satoru one last look — a mix of triumph and warning —before stepping forward.

but your partner, predictably, looked like he'd rather swallow glass than stand a moment longer here. still, bodyguard is as bodyguard does, and he trailed after you like a reluctant shadow.

"i must admit," naoki began, his brown eyes catching the glittering lights as they swept over you, "it's rare to see someone so beautiful at these things. i think i would have remembered seeing you before, too. i'm usually stuck with old men trying to swindle me out of my fortune."

a flush climbed up your neck, unwelcome and irritating at what must have been calculated words, enough to flatter and also to disarm.

behind you, gojo audibly scoffed, clearly abandoning all manner of proper etiquette. you glanced over your shoulder to see him gripping the stem of a champagne flute, his knuckles white. the empty glass of cream soda had been abandoned in favour of something stronger.

he caught your eye and rolled his, making a slicing gesture at his neck followed by a pointed hurry up motion.

"ignore him," you murmured to naoki, pushing forward.

naoki’s eyes gleamed with amusement, easily unbothered as he gestured for you to continue walking. "does your bodyguard always look like he’s seconds away from murder, or is this special treatment for me?"

you didn’t dare look back at gojo, “he’s just protective," you said carefully.

naoki chuckled, "protective, sure. but of his job...or you?"

the words struck a nerve you refused to acknowledge, so you pressed the conversation forward. ignoring the jitter that erupted in your stomach.

"can i ask...," you said, tilting your head just enough to feign casual curiosity, "are these all cursed objects? or just pretty trinkets?"

naoki's amusement didn’t falter, but his gaze sharpened, assessing you like you were a puzzle he was only now beginning to piece together.

"why?” he asked smoothly, "are you interested in jujutsu? i thought you were here to...browse."

fuck, caught, but not completely.

you played it off with a small shrug. "some members of my family dabble in jujutsu," you said, letting a sliver of truth escape, but letting the rest of your words drip with lies, "i can only see curses, i'm not a sorcerer. but most of my family still hates me for how i was born."

behind you, gojo shifted, his movements a touch sharper than before. he hadn’t known that, hadn't known the small truth that you had snuck into your words.

but naoki's expression softened, his smile more thoughtful now. "that’s rare. and often not appreciated, i imagine.”

you hesitated, cautiously, but nodded. "not by them, no."

"i understand. my parents hated jujutsu. thought it was unnatural, and against the way of the world. my grandfather...he was the only one who didn't," and there's a quiet sincerity threading naoki sato's words, "he raised me when my parents refused to. at least, until he passed."

something in his story tugged at you — a familiarity you hadn’t expected. your family’s disdain for your own jujutsu, their rejection, mirrored in his words. it was unsettling, but oddly not unwelcome.

"i’m sorry about your grandfather," you said softly.

"and i, about your family,” naoki replied, a calm mask settling over his features once more, reminding you so painfully of the sorcerer who trailed behind you, "no-one should be made to feel lesser, sorcerer or not."

you caught your lip between your teeth, hoping the red stain didn't catch onto your teeth, "i thought most sorcerers hated humans."

naoki shrugged, "we aren't all that different. all flesh and blood with temporary lives."

oddly wise words from a mass murderer, thief and criminal.

you glanced over at gojo again, and just as you predicted, his scowl deepened and the glass looked like it was about a shatter in his hands. if looks could kill, naoki sato would be the first to go, no questions asked, followed by you.

naoki snickered, "your shadow grows restless."

"ignore him, please," you muttered, stepping closer to a glass case to distract yourself, "what’s this?"

naoki followed, stepping closer so you could catch the scent of expensive almond and saffron, "ah," he said, gesturing at the artefact inside, "a blade, from ming dynasty china. the jade serpent on the hilt grants its wearer the ability to control minds. some say it can even raise the dead."

the claim sent a shiver down your spine, but you masked it with feigned interest, nodding as naoki moved on.

"and here," he continued, pointing to a golden ring, with an oddly boyish grin for someone dealing in murderous items, "the lion's eyes. said to see through any veil, any curse. the last treasure of the dynasty of the pharoahs."

you tried to listen, but gojo's presence loomed larger with every word. his disdain for naoki sato, his barely concealed anger at the stolen objects— it was all too palpable. when you glanced back, his scowl had deepened, and the champagne glass in his hand looked on the verge of shattering.

if looks could kill, naoki sato would already be six feet under. you would be next on the list.

you swallowed hard, turning back to naoki sato and pointing at the next display. "and this?"

naoki pushed his hands into the pockets of his slacks, "the broken english crown. apparently worn by the last king to die on the battlefield, and i haven't tried it on," he shares this with you, with a conspiratorial smile, "but legends say it fractures the bones of anyone deemed not powerful enough to wear it."

this criminal was not what you had expected at all. it was hard to reconcile the image of a hardened criminal with years of ruthless ambition, with this effortless charm and disarming way of making you lose the blurred line of correct propriety. you tried not to stare at how the warm light caught his auburn hair, like the autumn leaves in the dappled sun.

and yet, it wasn’t just his looks that threw you off. it was the way he carried himself — like he had nothing to prove and everything to hide. dangerous in a different way, one that was far harder to guard against.

it reminded you of gojo satoru.

"you know, i have to admit," naoki said, gesturing to the gilded displays around him, "most of this stuff? tacky as hell. but then, you would be surprised what most people would pay for tacky."

from a swindler, fraud and scammer? you were quite sure.

"funny, coming from someone whose livelihood depends on it. isn't that gaudy by association?"

naoki winked, and you averted your gaze from long brown lashes fluttering against soft skin, "touché. but people don't want to just buy the artefact, or the cursed object. they want the story. that shit's priceless."

you swallowed, focusing on how gojo was trying to draw your attention to a glass case hidden by all the others, and you hoped you weren't squinting, "so, you're just a storyteller then?"

but beside you, naoki sato tilted his head, "you could say that."

you thought of the clipped photos printed into the file. some in black and white, and some in raging shades of colour. where naoki sato's hands had painted entire buildings in shades of sticky red, and heads rolled on the floor. where his enhance technique could burst arteries and lungs, leaving people in pieces on the floor.

"sounds dramatic," you said, though your voice came out quieter than you intended.

"life's dramatic, and too short to not take what i want," naoki replied with a faint smile, his hand lightly brushing your waist as he guided you further past long tables.

you leaned into it without thinking, a tiny movement that made a creamy, berry flush paint over naoki's features. and the sorcerer's laugh was warm, low, like he’d already won something you didn’t realise was at stake.

behind you, a sharp cough broke the moment.

gojo.

you let your lips curl into a faint smile and leaned into naoki's just a fraction more, with a very deliberate look, one that spoke of triumph and having tamed a beast.

gojo's scowl deepened, his shoulders taut with barely restrained frustration, and he started mouthing at you, silent as his lips parted. if you read his mouth carefully, well...

he was calling you rather unflattering names.

"what's that?" but it was gojo's voice that roughly cut through the air, like gravel grinding underfoot. his shaded eyes were fixed on the glass case tucked in the corner.

you followed his gaze, past his outstretched arm, and your stomach twisted.

raijin's amulet.

the cursed object you’d been hunting, the one you’d sworn to protect at all costs, gleamed innocently behind its protective glass. you could recognise the serpentine dragon coiled protectively around the stone at its centre, its intricate carving daring anyone to claim it.

your frantic eyes met gojo's. his were sharp, seething. then, both your gazes flicked to naoki.

naoki, of course, noticed nothing — or pretended not to. he let out a soft hum, following gojo's pointed stare.

"the bodyguard's interested too?"

you coughed, cutting through the rising tension before gojo could turn that look into something explosive. the glass case between them might as well have been kindling for the fire brewing.

"it's mainly for academics," you said, feigning an air of curiosity. then, with practiced innocence, you tilted your head and smiled at the dangerous special grade cursed object as if it were nothing more than an ordinary trinket.

"but it’s so pretty. what is it, really?"

naoki's hand tightened subtly on your waist, and you tried to ignore the guilt that bubbled up in your chest when his sharp features softened at your feigned interest.

"it’s just an old thing," he said, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret meant only for you, "did you know it once belonged to ryomen sukuna?"

your mouth was dry, but you kept your face blank, tilting your head as though you’d never heard the name before, "sukuna?"

naoki pressed his palm to the glass case, his expression shifting into something darker, more reverent.

"the king of curses," he murmured. "lived over a thousand years ago. ruthless. when he died, most of his treasures were plundered by clans too greedy for their own good. but this..." he tapped the glass softly. "this one? it wasn't easy to get my hands on."

you leaned closer, feigning fascination while calculating your next move, trying to figure out how you could get close enough to that glass case without shattering the illusion cast on naoki sato, "what does it do?"

for a moment, naoki's eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering in their depths. but just as quickly, his expression smoothed out, and he chuckled.

"trust me, beautiful," he said, his voice like silk with an edge of warning. "you don’t want to wear that thing. i could get you something far more...safe."

you forced a smile, ignoring the chill that ran down your spine. instead, you threw a quick, desperate glance at gojo — a silent plea for the strongest to listen to you: i'll distract him. you get the amulet.

gojo's expression tightened, but his head snapped once, briefly, in the faintest hint of acknowledgement.

time to move.

you let out a soft, breathy laugh and tugged naoki toward a table, your hand brushing his arm with casual ease. "let’s sit," you suggested, leaning into his toned chest just enough to sell the act. "all this walking is making me tired."

naoki's laughter was warm, a touch too easy, and he let you guide him without resistance, "tsk, whatever you want," he murmured.

now you're trusting gojo satoru, simply because you had no other choice. he had to get the amulet out of the glass before alarms began to blare, and before needless blood was spilt over the glimmering floor.

and so you sat, letting naoki have his back to gojo, oblivious to the white-haired shadow slipping closer to the case. your eyes lingered on gojo, pulse racing each time he disappeared behind one of naoki's own burly guards.

but then naoki sato's gaze locked onto you, drawing your attention back with a searing warmth that caught you off guard.

"so," he asked, eyes glinting, "what do you think of all...this?"

"it's impressive," and you're surprised at how the truth has found a home in your mouth, "i didn't ever think of different sorcerers, around the world."

naoki leaned closer, with his elbows on his thighs, propping his face upon his hands, "most people don't. here, it's all about jujutsu. tokyo, this. kyoto, that. the higher ups are so narrow-minded. stuck in their ways, obsessed with tradition. they don't know anything about the world out there."

for a moment, his words startled you. they weren’t the boastful musings of a crime boss but something else. they reminded you of how gojo spoke about the rigidity of the old ways, about why he fought so hard to change things, to create a better world for jujutsu sorcerers.

ah, focus.

"hey," naoki suddenly said, pulling you out of your thoughts. his gaze was sharper now, more intense. and over his shouder, you caught the faintest blur of white hair in the background, gojo's movements.

but it was hard to focus on anything but naoki sato's face — the sharp lines softened by his proximity, the warmth in his dark eyes that you didn’t want to admit was almost magnetic.

he was a man marked for execution, and the warrant must have been burning a hole through your suite on the highest floor.

yet here he was, looking at you like you were something worth risking everything for.

and suddenly, you weren’t sure you wanted to see autumn's locks matted with rusted blood. to see eyes go dull and lifeless.

you felt like you had the moral spine of a sponge.

"can i kiss you?"

the question hit like a punch to the gut. your lips parted, but no sound came out. and suddenly, the steps in the background stopped too.

naoki's hand came up to your jaw, his touch unexpectedly reverent, and all you could think was: distraction. right. distract him for gojo. what the fuck is taking him so long?

so you closed the distance.

naoki's lips captured yours with a softness that disarmed you, but the kiss was anything but tentative, and you could taste a sweet tang like lemons and sugar. but you let his large hands pull you closer and his touch was warm and intoxicating.

the kind that made you forget, just for a moment, that this was all a ruse.

his lips moved against yours with a heat that made everything else fade to black, and his hands slid down your waist and back, tracing lines that felt dangerously real.

when you finally pulled away for air, your lips tingled, and your breath came in short bursts. you couldn’t help yourself — you reached up, your fingers brushing against his now-flushed lips, glossy under your touch, and you hated the way your stomach twisted from the way naoki sato melted under your touch.

focus, again.

you hoped, prayed, that gojo was doing his part, taking advantage of the way you had naoki sato, one of the most dangerous men in the entire world, wrapped around your finger, and bruising his tongue into your mouth.

but your gaze flicked upwards, past his shoulder and collided with something that stopped your heart cold.

electric blue. devastatingly vibrant, crackling with a fury that hit the air like a thunderstorm.

gojo's eyes pinned you in place, shadows pooling in sharp cerulean, from shades that had slipped just a touch down his nose. no mask to shield whatever expression gojo had clearly painted across his face.

hurt? anger? what the fuck, was that betrayal?

your throat tightened, and you resisted the urge to dig your nails into naoki's tailored jacket, to hiss at gojo to get a move on. to stop standing there like he had been hit with a shovel.

but the words didn't quite form, didn't pull at the corners of your mouth to silently shape them. his expression just held you captive, no. shamed you.

and that made you angrier. he had no right to look at you like that, like you had just crossed a line that you didn't even know was there.

but under you, naoki shifted, tilted your chip up to meet his lips again, and you let him. you...wanted him to. but the heat of his lips didn't drown out the chill of gojo's stare. your own body betrayed you with a shiver, one that you couldn't quite place yourself.

nerves, or desire.

the kiss was firmer this time, insistent, as if naoki sato was staking his claim in front of an invisible audience. his hand cupped the back of your neck, his thumb brushing the edge of your jaw with maddening ease, over the pulse of your neck.

and for a second, it was too easy to fall into the lie. but you felt it: the searing weight of gojo's glower burning into you, not far away.

naoki pulled back just slightly, his breath fanning your lips, "hey, you're distracted," he murmured, his voice low and teasing, his eyes scanning your face as though he wanted to read every thought. "should i be offended?"

"no," you said quickly, almost too quickly, "just a lot to take in."

naoki smiles, all coy and glazed lips, clearly pleased by what he thought was pure flattery, and not the glowering six-eyes shining behind him. "good. i think 'm gonna like leaving you speechless."

part of you knows that you just aren't seeing those pearly gates of heaven.

you know there's going to be a bouncer at the doors, with your face printed on a photo titled: dni! fraud! liar! the world's most incompetent jujutsu sorcerer! would bounce into a criminal's bed at first chance!

naoki's warm thumb lingers against your jaw, and your breath hitches just enough for the sorcerer to notice. you don't miss how his eyes darken, a hint of triumph gleaming in them.

you risked a glance past his shoulder again, and gojo was still there, stony-faced as naoki's own guards. but there's something else broiling in his eyes, rolling over his face like a thunderstorm cracks over a grassy plain. the fury in his eyes hadn't lessened, but now it was laced with something sharper, something that you can finally read.

jealousy. absolute glass-shattering, world-stopping levels of envy paint over gojo satoru's face.

the realisation hits you like a punch to the gut.

was he jealous of naoki sato? of you? of this entire charade that you both had agreed to? or rather, the one you had roped him into.

the idea shouldn’t have thrilled you, but it did. and it terrified you just as much.

you let naoki kiss you again, forcing yourself to deepen it this time, your hands coming up to rest against his hard chest. you don't miss how he suddenly parts from your lips, panting softly into your mouth, and suddenly you're hit with the most awful wave of longing for a man who cannot have.

naoki’s large hands, however, weren’t idle. one brushed the edge of your dress, under the shoulder strap of your powder-blue gown, his thumb grazing against the fabric, and your breath hitched.

you shift, your breath stuttering as naoki's other hand slides higher, his fingers brushing against the flesh of your thigh, pushing your dress higher, and his hand brushes against the silver details on the side, scratching your skin. it's maddening how cool air meets the heat of your now exposed skin, and naoki's mouth crushes against yours, as if he's equally savouring the taste of you.

"t-there are people here," you gasp, your voice a fractured whisper, trembling at the edge of composure, "what if they can see or watch?"

gojo satoru is here. gojo is watching. you know your partner is close enough to hear every breathless sound you make, every treasonous whine that slips past your lips.

but naoki sato's mouth is curved into a plush, wicked smile, "let them look," and his teeth are grazing against the curve enough in a way that makes you arch your back into him, he who is now leaning over you, as if he's the one trying to capture you, "who cares - hah?"

any reasonable thought of your duty. of honour, of a mission flees from your head.

the sight of gojo's softly parted mouth and darkened eyes as he watches you in another man's arms spurs you on, and you let naoki sato press his lips against the hollow of his throat.

naoki's long fingers are blazing as they reach the very apex of your thighs. as they press two rough pads into the sopping slick that's gathered in your panties, as they run themselves along dampened fabric in a way that has you openly keening.

"can i?" and your eyes meet the mahogany gaze of the man above you. it's electrifying. you should be ashamed, furious at how you're just being taken like this, on display. but this is a room of the seven deadly sins, where each corner of the room is a lesson in hedonism, and obscene wealth.

"please."

but your eyes are only on gojo satoru behind him. on how he catches the pale-pink of his bottom lip between his teeth, and his face is seething. how his darkened eyes drop to naoki's hand working its way between your legs, and you wantonly roll your hips up to meet him there.

you let writhing fingers slip under the waistband of your pale-blue underwear, dipping into glossy, thick arousal. but you also don't miss the tent in gojo satoru's grey slacks, only metres away, and the frenzied look making him look pained.

you would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy moaning openly, spreading your legs just a bit wider, so gojo could get a glimpse of your drooling cunt.

"fuck, 's good. so good, naoki."

a finger travels up, away from your winking entrance to press a soft flick against your throbbing clit, "yeah?"

and the beautiful man in between your legs all but purrs. pleased beyond measure at how you've apparently been captured, heart and soul by him. and your attention snaps back to how he suddenly draws his fingers off your soaked cunt, and brings them up to his mouth.

"sweetest thing i've ever tasted, i think 'm gonna have -"

and then, it hit you.

a hot, sticky spray of liquid.

the scent of iron slammed into your senses as fresh blood splattered across your face, your chest, and stained the delicate blue of your dress into a deep and damning red. it clung to your skin, to your lips as you pressed your mouth shut, fighting the bile rising in your throat.

reversal: red crackled in the air, cursed energy humming sharp, and it had sliced through the hall like a whip. naoki's arm had been torn from your waist, wrenched away as he staggered back with a guttural hiss, and you avert your eyes from the blood that paints the space between you.

"that's enough."

gojo satoru's voice is like a thunderclap, reverberating around your ears, and when you finally meet his gaze, you're met with unbridled fury. you're not sure where his shades have gone, but you're met with the full weight of six-eyes, blazing and unrelenting.

naoki stumbles ahead of you, clutching his shoulder where blood seeps through his fingers, torn between shock and raw rage. his cherry-lips are curled back into a snarl, flush with indignation.

"hah, you're a sorcerer?," and naoki sato's voice drips with venom, heavy with disbelief.

you're not quite sure gojo satoru needs to answer. not when his presence alone sends waves of cold through the hall, cutting the air precisely, cleaving it.

but there's a man running towards the commotion, a guard encumbered by a hefty black suit, and there's a cold shock that runs through you as your eyes fall on the gun at his side.

"we think that's gojo satoru," the guard wheezes, breathless.

"you're telling me this now? i gave you fuckwits one job," naoki snarls, shaking the man, with his nails dug into the guard's shoulder.

and you're quickly pushing your dress down, letting the fabric spill over your legs once more, fighting back the hot sparks that sting at your eyes.

it's enough to snap naoki's attention back to you. and for a moment, for the briefest of moment, he wasn't the hardened criminal you had been playing this dangerous game with. a boy your age, wild and beautiful, and utterly undone.

and it heaves your stomach at how the fury in his gaze trembles slightly, just enough to reveal betrayal underneath that strikes you harder than any limitless could.and it struck you harder than any whip of magic ever could.

"i must be stupid, fuck," naoki's voice cracks as he spits the words, his expression twisted with something raw, something painfully human, "you’re a jujutsu sorcerer too, aren't you?"

the accusation was a dagger, his voice trembling with disbelief but its wholly true, and your head wavers in a half-shake, half-nod.

"you’re with him, aren't you? just another one of the higher up's lapdogs?"

the words weren’t a question — they were a condemnation.

naoki's lips are curled, and his bloodied arm is now trembling but steady, defiance burning through the pain.

and a whisper in your mind tells you to smash the glass case holding the amulet, to push through it with your bare hands, just so you can bleed alongside him.

but naoki sato's bitter scoff shatters that thought, and his gaze must have followed yours, sharp and knowing, for his hand has moved faster, pulling the gun from the guard's holster.

the blast came before you could even think, loud and jarring.

but you never saw the bullet's path, only gojo.

gojo, whose arm has snapped in front of you like a barrier, impossibly fast, and well within the bounds of his infinity. as if he had tore through space itself.

the bullet collides with infinity, ricocheting into the chaos of the panicking crowd.

naoki’s gaze didn’t waver. it slices back to gojo, sharp, calculating, and darkly amused. he must have seen it now, everything.

the truth was etched in the way gojo had positioned himself, the way his blazing blue eyes never left you, the unspoken claim humming in the air like a second heartbeat.

naoki sato's laugh is lower, bitter, and you watch the mesmerising plink! of crimson on the floor.

"he's protecting you, isn’t he?" his voice dripped with venom, each word striking like a dagger, "how sweet.”

and just like that, something broke. gojo's restraint, most likely.

you can see how his fingers are flexing, his hands lifting and cursed energy is coiling at his fingertips. his thumb and index finger brush, a telltale sign of an impending blast. hollow purple.

you clench your eyes shut, bracing for the devastation of the impact —

but naoki sato was faster.

his arms snapped outward, a surge of his own jujutsu ripping through the space between you. the bodyguards around you crumpled like ragdolls, their bodies bursting under the pressure. blood sprayed in thick, sticky waves, painting the walls, the floor — against the edges of infinity.

you opened your eyes in time to see gojo falter, his hands trembling as he stared at the carnage. even he, the unflinching sorcerer, the strongest, looked shaken by the sheer brutality of what cursed technique: enhance was capable of.

and in the heartbeat of his hesitation, naoki was gone.

"fuck's sake! s-satoru! let go of me!" you snap, voice cracking with fury as you fight against gojo's tight grasp.

his vivid focus shoots back to you, his expression a storm of anger and disbelief, "what?" and gojo's voice is razer-sharp, "if you think i'm letting you go after that stunt you pulled -"

"shut up!" and you can feel your own desperation cut through the air, "you go after him, i'll go after the amulet."

you toss your head to the shattered glass and the chaos erupting all around you, "if that thing gets lost in the mess, we've done this all for nothing!"

gojo's jaw is clenched, his mouth pressed into a hard and furious line. for a moment, you think he's going to argue with you again, but then you're dropped unceremoniously to the ground.

pain shoots through your knees as you land, but you're soon hauling yourself up.

"go!" you hiss, shoving at his shoulder, "i'll come find you when i have it."

gojo hesitates for a fraction of a second longer, then he's gone — a blur of movement faster than your eyes could track, leaving you alone in the chaos.

your hands tremble as you grab a heavy steel bar from the wreckage, swinging it with all your strength at the glass case. the sound of shattering glass barely registers as you reach inside, your fingers curling around the cold, smooth surface of the amulet.

wild shocks run through you, and you almost keel over, feeling the rush and pulse of such a cursed object against your skin. but it's safe. you have it now.

with it clutched tightly in your hand, you turned and run.

by now, you can't find it within yourself to stop the hot tears from running down your cheeks, streaming freely as you tear through the blood-soaked scene.

you run, the air sharp and cold against your skin, your heartbeat an unrelenting drum in your ears. the thump! making your head pound.

you can follow the residuals of gojo's cursed energy, lingering like a sickly beacon, drawing you back to the dull parking lot. you pushed open the doors with both hands, red smudging onto the concrete as you ignored the sting of your palms

and then you saw it. saw it all.

the scene hits you like a wrecking ball, knocking the breath clean from your lungs.

a body lies crumpled on the ground, its lifelessness more harrowing than the carnage that surrounds it. blood, thick and sticky, smears across the concrete. massive pillars, toppled like a child's toys in the wake of a clear explosion.

your gaze snags on a limp hand sprawled on the floor, and you feel your stomach twist. instinctively, your tongue slides against the back of your teeth, and the metallic tang of iron is already sleeping into your senses.

and then, there was gojo satoru.

he stands amid the wreckage, like a figure carved from shadows, and ice. and fury. his chest softly rises and falls, as though he had been running for miles, his hair disheveled and darkened with sweat.

the sight of him might have almost been human, almost comforting. if not for the gore streaked across his hands, and the thing he drops onto the concrete with a hollow thud.

you don't look at it. you don't think you can. your stomach knows the truth before your mind catches up, bile heaving within you once more.

the head of naoki sato. he would never have stood a chance against the strongest sorcerer in modern history.

final task: retrieve artefact. execute naoki sato on site. alternatively, bring in for execution.

you mind flashes back to that dastardly pink sticky note, still stuck to the case file.

what did you feel now? anger? sadness?

maybe both. maybe neither.

the blood pooling in front of gojo is already congealing, its sickly shine dimming in the cold, fluorescent light of the lot.

you were tired of seeing blood, of tasting it on your tongue, of breathing it in like the very air you needed to survive.

you’d thought there would be relief in the end. but instead, disappointment had rooted itself deep inside you, twisting itself.

naoki sato, for all his crimes and cruetly, had been...something. somewhere beneath the sly smirks and sharp words, there had been glimpses of something that almost looked like hope. he had said he wanted better — for everyone. for you. was it a lie? or had you twisted his words into something more comforting than the truth, desparate to see light where there was none?

your throat burns, but no tears come. just a hollow ache that matches the cold weight of raijin's amulet in your hand. you looked at it now, the thing you’d fought so hard to win, its edges biting into your skin, the dragon leaving its mark.

gojo's voice cut through the silence, low and ragged, and tired, "don’t look."

you hadn’t even realised you were staring, your eyes hovering dangerously close to the lifeless hand on the ground.

"i'm sorry," he had continued, his tone strangely neutral, as if apologising for a cracked glass rather than the irrevocable violence around him, that seemed to trail after him, "i had to do it."

you laughed then, short and bitter, the sound cracking like a whip against the cold air. "had to, gojo?" your voice trembled, not with fear, but something darker. something far more raw.

his gaze had snapped to you, and there it was — the thing that always churned between you two. a storm of emotions, tangled so tightly you could no longer tell where hate ended and yearning began.

"you think this is the resolution i wanted?" gojo shot back, his voice laced with something too jagged to be regret. "you think i enjoyed that?"

and in the most twisted, perverse theatre of your mind's eye, you see gojo's open-mouthed stare, focused on how another man touched you, made you his.

"i don’t know what you enjoy anymore," you take a step closer, your grip tightening on amulet until your knuckles whitened. but the air pushed from your lungs, "but - god, gojo. forget it. i-i don't even know. 'm sorry, too."

gojo sighs, and you see the exhaustion hanging over him too, "we'll go back tomorrow morning."

the walk back to your room is…suffocating. the air is thick with everything that you just cannot say, words that you can't even bring your heavy tongue to shape.

gojo is beind you, and you can feel the weight of his presence pressing between your shoulder blades, but you just can't turn around. you don't dare to. raijin's amulet is still clenched in your hand, and its edges are cutting into your palm, a form of self-flagellation you suppose.

you push the door open, and your breath catches and hitches as you slip inside, slamming it shut after he follows. locking it with shaking hands.

in the suite, the moonlight now slices through the half-drawn curtains, as the tokyo skyline glimmers underneath you. it's painting silver lines across gojo's spectral frame, and he strides to the amenities sink, a smaller outlet near the door.

you watch, as though you're holding a sacred vigil.

your gaze doesn't leave gojo's figure as he throws his jacket off his sharp torso with a disgusted sigh, leaving him in his black dress shirt and a loosened tie.

still watching as his movements are tense, restless as he cups water from the faucet in his hands, splashing it onto his face.

when he finally looks up, gojo's white is hair dripping, his tie slightly askew, and his tired eyes catch yours like a snare.

for a moment, you’re frozen. neither of you say a word. the air feels too thin to breathe, and his gaze is too much — too piercing, too relentless, too him.

you can’t take it.

with a sharp motion, you slam the amulet onto the table, the sound echoing through the quiet room. you spin on your heel and lock yourself in the bathroom, shutting him out.

inside, the luxurious space feels surreal. marble floors gleam under the soft glow of recessed lighting, gold fixtures glinting and stinging your eyes. it smells faintly of jasmine and mint, too perfect for the mess you're about to create.

you grip the edge of the sink as the first sob wrenches its way out of your chest, hot and raw.

tears spill over, cascading down your cheeks in waves you can’t control. they come faster, harder, until you’re gasping, choking on gulps of air that burn in your throat.

you sink onto the cool floor tiles, your knees pulled to your chest as the sobs wrack your body. the weight of everything, what you did, gojo's eyes gleaming, naoki sato's hands on you, the smell of blood, it all crashes over you like a tidal wave. it’s too much for a human heart to bear in one night.

but your hands are shaking as you reach for the hem of your once beautiful dress, peeling it off with clumsy, desperate motions. the air is cool against your skin, you who is now left in undergarments.

and you stare blankly at the blood that smears your arms and legs, before grabbing a small towel, dampening it under the sink and wiping crimson stains away.

small cuts sting on your skin, faint patches where glass struck you, and you hiss.

a knock rattles the bathroom door, sharp and unrelenting, dragging you back to reality.

you close your eyes and exhale through gritted teeth, your voice brittle, "not now, gojo."

silence follows, stretching out long enough to offer the illusion of peace. but then it breaks. another knock, louder, more insistent this time.

"satoru, i swear to god," you snap, your exhaustion fraying into something sharp, laced with more venom now.

there’s a sigh from the other side, audible even through the thick wood, "don't make me blast this door down."

you groan, rolling your eyes as you toss the bloodied towel onto the counter, "you wouldn't dare."

"try me. just open the door, would'you?"

you don’t have the energy to argue, and something in his tone tells you that gojo isn’t bluffing. and so you dragged yourself upright, swinging the door open with more force than necessary.

gojo stands there, with damp hair still clinging to his forehead, beads of water trailing down his templates. and his sleeves are rolled up now, revealing thick forearms flecked with rust and crimson. it wouldn't be his. no, gojo hasn't bled in over a decade.

you straighten, aware of your own state right now. in your undergarments, only shielding you from being entirely bare under his gaze. but the only clothes in this room with you are now crumpled on the floor, in a heap of ice-blue and dark red.

let him look. he's seen more than enough now.

and so you lean back against the sink, crossing your arms as your eyes meet blue, "what do you want?"

gojo hesitates, his jaw tightening as he braces himself. when he finally speaks, his voice is low, rough around the edges, "just...asking if you're alright."

the laugh that escapes you is sharp and hollow, devoid of any humour, "why wouldn't i be?"

gojo's faze flickers, his expression unreadable, but his eyes linger a moment too long. you let him trace the dried blood smeared across your collarbone, the faint scratches on your skin.

"after all of that tonight..." he starts, but the words hang in the air between the two of you, unfinished. his voice suddenly falters, and you're struck by how gojo's razor-sharp confidence has dulled into something weaker, more conflicted.

you know exactly what he means. the stunt he's referring to, in his own earlier words. you wonder what exactly is eating at him now. is it honest concern, pride? residual envy?

"please, trust me. i'm fine, we managed to do what was asked of us, anyway," you clip curtly, hoping your tone is final enough.

gojo looks at you like he doesn't believe a single syllable that slips from your bitten lips, but then his shoulders sag and he exhales sharply, "fine," he mutters, turning on his heel as if he's the one that can't stand to be near you any longer.

"wait."

the word slips out before you can stop it, and gojo pauses, and his eyes are narrowed with suspicion.

you swallow hard, suddenly unsure of yourself, and lift a clean towel from the counter, helping yourself to another one of the hotel's free amenities, "can you help me with this?"

an olive branch.

you gesture with a single finger, over dried blood that has streaked over your back, your neck. the hollow of your collarbone.

you can see the refusal dancing on his tongue, the hesitation in the way his throat bobs, and how gojo's eyes flicker over you once more.

but he doesn't refuse. gojo just wordlessly steps forward, taking the towel from your outstretched hand. you watch, silently, as he moves to the sink and runs it under cold water. you're sitting on the edge of the counter now so you face him, watching the warm golden glow of the overhead lights in his pale hair.

the porcelain is cold against your thighs as you angle yourself away from the mirror, facing gojo. the towel in his hand drips faintly, and you watch as he hesitates again, just for a fraction of a second before stepping closer.

at first, his movements are slow and careful. he's raising the towel, and his hand is steady as you feel the first touch of the cool fabric against your back. a shiver practically races down your spine, not from the cold, but from the way his arm snakes behind you, brushing against your bare skin.

it's subtle at first, but you notice it. the hitch in his breath, the faint tremour in his movements.

gojo, who is always so infuriatingly composed, is shaken. you hear it in the sorcerer's uneven exhale that he doesn't quite manage to suppress, the way his fingers press the towel just a little too harshly.

the suite is silent now except for the faint drip of water and the rasp of fabric against your skin. you should say something, anything, but the words don’t come. instead, your gaze fixes on him, his profile illuminated by the warm glow of the bathroom light.

gojo's features are always striking, almost ethereal: the ice-white hair that falls messily against his forehead, the long white lashes that frame those sharp, cerulean-blue eyes. there’s something softened by the warm light, as though the harshness of his presence, of a man who stands above heaven and earth, has been dulled just enough to make him seem almost...human again.

but you feel as though your heart must just give way, pounding so hard that it may burst. where the blood that fell from another man's veins had somehow drawn a line to gojo satoru instead.

an hour ago, you had been arched into another, naoki sato, one who had been a dead man walking. an hour ago, his hands were on you, his lips hot and insistent, and his eyes were warm, and now he’s gone. dead. gojo made sure of that. and that was always meant to happen.

the thought should make you furious. it should make you push gojo away, but instead, all you can do is sit there, feeling his hands —gentle now, impossibly careful, on your skin.

it's wrong. it's so deeply, fundamentally wrong, and yet the space another man left feels like it was carved out for gojo satoru all along.

gojo's touch slows as he runs the towel over your skin, tracing the line of your collarbone with a precision that feels almost tender. your eyes slip closed for a moment, the warmth of his hand lingering even as the cold water wipes away the blood.

then he moves again.

it happens fast enough that you barely register it. one second, gojo satoru is standing tall and focused on the task, and the next...he's leaning down. his breath ghosting over the hollow of your neck.

you feel your entire world tilt as his lips press softly against the curve where your neck meets your shoulder, a touch so light that it feels stolen.

but now you've frozen, every breath catching as though the air was snatched from your lungs. every nerve feels as though it's on fire, hyper-aware of how soft the brush of his lips was, the faint scrape of his teeth just shy of your skin.

how gojo's lips were almost reverent, like a prayer offered in silence. how he was worshipping something he couldn't ever have.

but your eyes snap open to meet his.

gojos's cerulean eyes are molten, the usual ice cracked and melting into something deep and desperate and all-consuming. they bore into yours, wild and unguraded, and the pale lashes framing them tremble lighting as though even he's unsure of what he's just done.

but gojo's pupils are also blown wide, and electric. like a storm trapped in glass.

you swallow hard, your pulse thundering in your throat. slowly, cautiously, you dip your head, just enough to give him permission without saying a word.

the look in his eyes shifts — hunger, disbelief, and something darker all tangled together. he presses his lips to your neck again, firmer this time, lingering as though committing the feel of your skin to memory. then again, slightly higher, his breath hot and uneven against you.

"satoru…" the name slips from your lips in a whisper, trembling and unbidden.

the warmth of his tongue catches you off guard, tracing the curve of your neck in a way that sends a jolt through your entire body, heat down to your thighs. it's...unhinged, but the part of you that should push him away is nowhere to be found.

gojo pulls back just enough for you to see the faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth, though his eyes remain dark, intense, and burning with something that feels too big for the room.

"another man got to taste you," he whispers, "now i've tasted him."

you almost laugh, sharp and bitter. the sound lodging in your throat. the absurdity of it all, the jealously lacing his words like a poison vine, the way his breath still fans against your skin.

"that's insane," you manage, your voice shaking. it does little to stop the searing heat curling low in your stomach.

for a second, gojo's breath is still hot against your neck. and then suddenly, his hands are on you.

and fuck, it's not delicate at all. there's a roughness to his touch, desparate and unrestrained, as though something inside him as finally snapped.

his palms trace along your bare shoulders, sliding down to your arms, and then to your waist. his fingers press into your skin with a heat that makes you feel like you're burning from the inside out. you don't even realise when you had opened your mouth slightly, panting as if you're trying to pull more air in.

"gojo," you manage, barely audible, and you're acutely aware of the low tense ache beginning to throb in your groin.

his hands slow for a moment, resting on your sides as if he’s trying to ground himself, or stop himself. and gojo's eyes find yours again, and they’re ablaze.

"can i keep going?"

you wonder just how you've managed to unravel this man, to leave his voice hanging by a thread in the air.

you don’t answer right away, your head swimming with confusion, slick desire, and something dangerously close to surrender. gojo satoru is watching you so intently it’s like he’s searching for every unspoken answer written on your skin.

finally, you shift — subtle, but enough. your knees part slightly, just enough for him to step between your bare thighs.

"what do you want me to do?"

you're aware of the insistent, rhythmic pulsing under your panties. of how every small shift of gojo's body against yours amplifies the soft arousal forming, as your heart pounds faster.

and so you let your fingers hook onto the pale waistband of your underwear, and you watch as his gaze follows your movements.

"i want you to touch me, there. please."

you hear the white-haired man breathe out a thankful, reverent fuck before he's following the path of your own hands, hooking a slender finger into your waistband and pulling your underwear down, and off.

and you're so painfully aware of your own arousal right now, the wet that is pooling beneath you. it feels like a relief, parting your legs so your searing heat meets cool air.

"that's perfect, look at t-that," and you're suddenly whining as gojo's fingertips begin grazing sloppy folds, raking themselves over your fluttering entrance, "she's practically been beggin' for my touch all this time, hah!"

"you - ohh, gojo!" you moan, feeling awfully faint from the rippling warmth making your cunt tighten around him, each pshh! echoing in your burning ears, "y-you wish!"

gojo's laugh is a little crazed, undone as he rolls his fingers in practiced curls, at an inhuman pace. bullying his fingers into your opening, as he rasps, "yeah, i w-wish. 'm wishing for this all the time. you never knew, huh?"

"f-fuck, if i had known it felt like this, would've stuck my fingers in h-her a long time ago," gojo unfurls his fingers that only just separated from your winking pussy, and you can only watch.

equally mesmerised as his slender fingers are coated in strands of your slick, clinging to the curves of his short nails and coating them in a mirror sheen.

"have some c-class, gojo! you've lost your fuckin' mind -"

smack!

the dewy pads of his fingers have come down in a harsh arc, slapping right at your throbbing clit, and the jolt sends such an incredible crack of lightning down your spine that you're bucking your hips back up into his hand, back for more.

"some class? hah, 'm not able to do that now, baby," and you can feel gojo shudder under your touch, as you paw at the linen of his black dress shirt, raking your nails over his pectorals, "not when it f-feels like your pussy is about to, fuck, vacuum my fingers off."

"i swear to god, gojo. never say that corny shit a-again."

but it's hard to convey any sense of righteous fury like this. not when he's back to pushing the tapered ends of his long fingers in and out of your tight heat. each brush from the pads of his fingertips leaves you squealing, tugging at the snowy strands on the back of his head.

but gojo's teeth are sharp as they sink into the damp skin of your neck with an almost reverent press, easily snapping through the delicate flesh.

and you're squealing, shocked at how fucking bold gojo satoru has become, whining at how a sharp hiss pulses through you, and you can feel the warmth of blood beginning to bloom and pool over your collarbone.

"shit, 'm sorry, baby. so sorry. but i'm gonna need to see you l-like this," and suddenly gojo snaps away the pussydrunk babble falling from his candied mouth, and he's pressing a searing kiss to your jaw, and the air becomes hazy with the scent of an insanely expensive cologne, cedar and something...sweet, like cardamom.

still, there's hardly time to dissect that.

not when his thick arm is around your waist, handling you until you're smack bang between his legs, right between dark slacks. and gojo has shifted, so your back is flat against the hard planes of his chest, and your knuckles can only grip at the vanity sink. so your eyes can only see your naked torso twisting in the mirror.

"keep your eyes h-here, sweets. on us."

and god, that's exactly where your eyes are. falling on a tense forearm around your waist, as the other works its fierce way through the clamping, gummy walls of your leaking cunt. and you're shuddering underneath him, feeling each brush of his fingers in you.

"w-we make a pretty sight, don't we, yeah?" and the words are spilling from gojo's lips with a certain smugness, but it's rough around the edges, strained. and you just can't look away from how utterly ruined he looks, from touching you.

you watch the glossed shine of your trickling pussy twinkle in the warm lights, as gojo pushes your thighs open wider. his frame leans over yours, taut and straining. and his lips are flushed and parted, betraying the deep ache of his breath.

"go onnn, say it. c'mon," and now gojo's whining in your ear, letting his hand push further into the mess as your pussy is practically weeping onto his fingertips, "won't let you c-cum if you don't say it."

your chest heaves with each desperate, gulping breath. and you can see gojo's vision narrow on how your tits threaten to spill out from their confines, the swell of your chest rising as you try to draw air through your close orgasmic daze. where the edges of your vision blur, and your heart is pounding erratically, "ahhh, gojo! 'm gonna, i think 'm gonna, oh my god!"

but there's more, you want so much more.

and against better thought, you push and elbow back into gojo's chest, heaving as he flicks his thumb over your aching clit.

"hah, what is it now? fuck was that for?" and the man is scowling at you, seemingly irritated that you drew him away from the hypnotic pull of your pulsing walls.

you swivel, away from the mirror so you're facing him. and your eyes fall on the heavy, pitched tent in gojo's grey slacks, one that must be aching and awfully painful from the way he's running his pink tongue over his bruised mouth.

"wan' more, gojo. on the bed."

you've reached up behind your back, unhooking the clip that was holding your bra together. it falls, and you toss it into the pile where gojo had flung your clingy panties, over your gorgeous dress.

and you think gojo satoru might have just had a minor heart attack.

his expression has shifted, lips parted as he takes in your naked form. you think you hear his breath hitch, as his eyes roam over you, unblinking. you're certain that the mildly brighter light in the room has nothing to do with what's overhead, rather the bright blue of gojo's six eyes.

you snicker at his dumbstruck expression, letting your hand curl around his wrist — marvelling at how he almost whines at the sight of you pushing him out of the bathroom suite, and onto that glorious bed that the two of you had argued over earlier in the day.

"n-not so opposed to sharing a bed with me now, sweets? oh, fuck," you don't let him get any more words out, since you're reaching for the sleek leather belt threading through the loops of his slacks, pawing at them so you can finally undress him. have him as bare as you are now.

something in your desparate touch must have made gojo snap, because now he's shuffling the two of you around, so you're practically splayed out under his warm, large hands. thighs spread, parted so your dripping cunt is displayed to the room, as he scoots closer. his knees pressing against the carpet.

"hnnghh, f-fuck, look at her. practically cryin' on me."

and what a sight. gojo satoru, the most powerful man to walk this earth in centuries is slumped beneath your thighs, close enough to your clit that when he breathes, he knocks his nose right over the sensitive bud, coating his face in that syrupy glaze.

and then its slow, painful. how his long tongue descends onto your weeping pussy, writhing flat in wide, broad strokes that leave you whining out his name.

you spread your legs even wider, fighting against gojo's tight grip on the flesh of your thighs. the thighs that are trembling as he brings his teeth up to graze your clit, and your arousal drips from his lips. making candied pink lips look like they've been glazed and dipped in sugar.

briefly, in the back of your mind, you wonder how you're going to continue to function tomorrow. how you're going to even be able to walk after gojo satoru has rendered you boneless.

you also wonder if there's a cosmic deity out there, looking at an invisible and heavenly camera with a dull look on their face. something like what can you do?

"mmhph, y'know i l-like this a lot better than that drink from earlier," and he's cooing at how you squeal and moan, "hah, what was that s-shit called? a cream soda."

you pull at the white strands of his hair, yanking gojo's head back from where his tongue had been lolling around your clit, ignoring his whine, "if y-you make a stupid, fuckin' joke about creaming, i'm g-gonna leave."

gojo rolls his eyes, but this time? this time, there's no malice in it, no irritation. his expression is almost fond, if not shadowed by the enormity of his own lust, "leaving before the main event is dumb choice, sweets."

"tch! get to i-it then, oh! what the fuck, gojo!"

he's found the right place to prod, to roll his fingers over the hood of your clit, occasionally propping his mouth down to suck at it lightly. your mouth is clamped shut, so you don't release an absurd amount of babble, wordless and airless about how good he's devouring you.

"hah," gojo huffs, pressing three flat fingers against your entrance, letting them curl into your walls, enough to tease you, "i can feel her beating for me. 's pulsing all over."

"c-can't you jus' make me cum?" your hands are desparate for some friction, running past your perked tits, down to his hair again. now clamping your thighs around his head, and the soft, snowy hair of his head tickles at your skin.

"can' believe you're talking shit when i'm e-eating you out," gojo chuckles, but you're just too mesmerised by the glint of your slick lighting a beacon over the lower half of his face, strands of slick as he pulls away from your pussy, "y'not that patient, huh?"

he's practically attached to your clit now, kissing it with a tender and yet firm press of his lips, seemingly aware of just how sensitive you are to that type of pressure.

you whimper and mewl as gojo's head disappeared back between your legs, deeper and lower as his tongue pushes into your pussy, flicking shallow thrusts that makes you breathe out gasps of his name.

"now i think 'm gonna cum, so close, satoru," with your hand firmly lodged in his platinum strands, you're rocking your hips messily, sloppily against his awaiting mouth.

"y-yeah? go on, sweets," he's moaning now too, and you don't miss how the edge of the bed rocks just a bit from him grinding the frame for some release on his own erection.

your orgasm makes your mind foggy, and you practically quake in gojo's large, warm hands. with a sharp cry of his name, followed by an endless chant of praise for the unearthly man between your legs, lapping at you as though you are his last drink, his last meal on this earth before he ascends elsewhere.

the hard streaks of white shoot through your vision, even as you come down from the incredible high, and you realise gojo has not stopped.

gojo's jaw is still locked as your slick dribbles down your folds, into his open mouth and onto his waiting tongue. the extra stimulation makes you deliriously cry out, "fuck, s-satoru! 's too much, holy fuck!"

you were still shaking, and a second orgam blurred your sight into an incredible spectrum of colours, white hot starlight and streaks of blue. that cascade of vivid tints flood your vision, each one jerking your hips and cunt forward until you felt your legs give way.

until gojo finally separated himself from your thighs, satisfied at how he had pulled two climaxes from you.

he's absolutely lost it, lost in that daze of being pussywhipped, and his eyes gleam with a feverish intensity. and when he crashes pink, glossy lips down on your mouth, you can feel him shake under your touch.

you moan, loud, as he nips at your lower lip. at how you can taste yourself on his tongue, syrup strands falling into your mouth as gojo suddenly twitches.

"i think 'm gonna have to be in you right now, otherwise i'll literally fuckin' die."

a breathy laugh falls from your lips as your partner pulls himself up, heavy limbs finally extracting themselves away from your naked body, reaching up to hook his fingers over the black crinkle of his rumpled dress shirt, pulling the fabric off.

leaving your mouth dry.

the moonlight spills over gojo's torso, and you track your eyes over his broad chest, rising and falling and flushed from his own arousal.

you follow the faint dusting of pale white hair as it disappeared past the waistband of his slacks that he's quickly making short work of, and you feel your pussy clench thinking about how badly you need to jump gojo satoru's bones.

but you're too transfixed by him, by the sculpted figure of a supposedly cold and arrogant bastard you've spent months and years rolling your eyes at.

he's real. all hot flesh and blood, and stunning. not that sneering, and infuriating man who's always one step ahead, always one callous word away from making your blood boil.

for a different heat has settled in you now, as your eyes fall on his throbbing cock that has sprung forth, up over his stomach. the tip is an angry, and furious berry-pink and you wonder just how you're going to make these inches fit.

"hah, didn’t think you'd be this shy, you know,” he says, voice a low, husky tease, as if he’s been watching your struggle. gojo's eyes glint with amusement, but there’s something deeper beneath it, something that you hope with lead him to take mercy on you.

"n-no. no," you repeat yourself more firmly, but it's far too breathless to be convincing, "no, 'm not shy."

but it's hard to form coherent thoughts when gojo satoru is towering over you, and his absurdly long and girthy shaft is twitching in between your slick folds.

"fuck you, s-satoru," you're whimpering, feeling the pulsing, rounded head of his flushed tip brush past your sensitive, drooling slit, "taking too long. jus' put it in already."

"mhmm, sweets," and gojo's bustling at your thighs now, pinching the soft and tender skin in retaliation for your touch undoing him so easily, "she can't even be patient, hah, trus' me. just lay back."

you comply, just this once. just because gojo satoru's cock looks so big, you think you need to gather all your thoughts so you'll be able to form coherent sentences later.

resting your head back on plush sheets, with the skyline twinkling in your peripheral vision as gojo's aligning himself with your cunt. he's gasping in low, shuddering breaths as his tip teases and hooks onto your inner walls.

"look at thaaat, oh! baby, fuck, wasn' even joking before, just sucking me up so fuckin' good!"

you don't reply, just mewling as he pushes inch after veiny inch into your dribbling walls, gasping as his large hands rest on the back of your thighs, pushing them further up so he can slot his torso in between your legs.

"oh my god, satoru! s-satoru, hnnhgh, it's too much — i don' think it's gon' fit," you always thought you would be embarrassed to lose composure like this in front of gojo, but you find yourself panting into the crook of his neck, raking nails down his flushed neck.

he's big, and you can feel every vein of his tapered curve hitting the right spots within you, as you shift your hips, desperate to let his sinuous cock kiss every inch of your pussy lovingly.

"gon' dumb already?" gojo's huffing, but you can see that he's not unaffected. his eyes are glazed over, hazy as he slowly draws his hips back just an inch, before scooting them forward already, "jus' gonna have to make this pussy learn from now on. don' worry, sweets. it'll fit."

the 'from now on' makes something in your pounding heart flutter.

but you have little time to focus on it as he bottoms out in your drenched cunt, as though you're hearing the slosh of your pussy coat him entirely, right up to the wiry, white hairs on his groin.

"hahh, there we go! the w-wonders of a positive attitude, don'tcha think?" and you're left with your eyes rolling to the back of your head, as he begins to pick up the pace. a steady staccato that has you jostling underneath his ministrations.

you let his mouth chase yours, capturing glossy lips with your own bite, letting him pant, and whine and praise the heavens above for how tight you're snatching him right now.

"she's p-perfect, isn't she? t-thought about it so much, y'got no idea, got no c-clue about how much i thought about you under me like this n' how you'd f-feel!"

gojo satoru is absolutely drunk from a nectar that he has tasted once. the same nectar that coats his cock in frothy, filthy rings as he pistons his hips out of your pussy.

"happy for y-you, satoru," and you're letting your nails scratch over the shell of his ear as he twitches and shudders, "but fuck, y'talk too much! jus' focus on fucking me!"

gojo's mouth quirks upwards, that knowing smirk playing on his lips as he looks at you bemused, and so hazy.

"god, a lot of that attitude now, hahh?" and he's drawling the words out, and you don't miss how he shudders when you clench around his shaft, on purpose. he's leaning in closer, barely brushing past your lips, and you wonder briefly for a split-second, gojo satoru might just really love you.

and then, without warning, his hand comes down to your side, just underneath the fat of your tits, pinching lightly at the abdomen. causing you to take a sharp intake of breath, and a dizzy huff of his name.

if you ever believed that gojo satoru was malicious in the workplace, a bane on your sanity, you had not been prepared for how he was stretching you out in all the right places.

that inhumane pace of the strongest had him snapping his hips sharply, over and over until he's hitting the spongy patch, deep within your walls.

"clamped around me like, ohh, like a fuckin' vice," gojo's grunting now, each breath coming out short puffs that match the timing of the slap! each whack of his cock delivers, pressing your hips together and coating his hips in sweet slick.

"mmph, feels so good, satoru!" you squeal, pressing a hand over your mouth so you don't wake up the entire top floor of the hotel, tits jostling with each shuffle and movement.

it's all coming down on you too quick, that electric haze shooting down your spine. made all the worse by gojo groaning and slipping his hand between his jackhammering hips, down to where your clit is practically throbbing for his touch.

he's running tight circles, before pressing the flat of his thumb under the hood of your clit, ripping a raw cry from the back of your throat, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as gojo's lips are leaving blooming marks over your neck.

"satoru, i t-think 'm gonna c-cum again," you moan, fluttering your lashes against your skin, rolling your hips up into gojo's quick fingers and brutal cock. but it feels different this time, nothing like your past two orgasms. you feel something draw its claws further into your groin, like you're going to burst and the breath will be stolen away from your lungs.

you hear gojo say something, snarky but tender as he laughs into your collarbone, as he's slapping his fingers down quickly over your clit, making you jolt. but you don't hear his words as blood roars in your eears, gushing all over his cock with a clear, sticky sheen that coats him deliciously.

makes gojo satoru groan out filthy praises over your marked skin, "didn' know you were that nasty? hahh, squirtin' over me on your first go, yeah? it's gettin' too much for me too, s-sweets. think 'm gonna hafta maaa -"

you have no inkling as to what gojo was aiming to groan out, fluttering his own blue eyes shut as his orgasm catches up to him, pumping you insanely full of thick, stringy seed. practically painting your inner walls a translucent white as you huff and whine.

but in the back of your mind, you think he wanted to marry you. a bridge you'll cross when you get to it.

"fillin' you up, good, aren't i?" and he's lost in a daze, and you watch as his muscles ripple in the light of the moon, pectorals gleaming as he stuffs you further, as if plugging his seed to stay in you, making you squirm from the delicious stimulation.

you should have paid a little more attention to your surroundings. less attention to the thick veins of his cock drilling a home in you. or less attention to how his lips curl up into a sweeter smile as he presses soft, happy kisses to your cheek while you lay exhausted, caged by his thick arms.

then, you might have noticed the lights flicker and then shatter for half the hotel's rooms.

the morning sun peeks through the curtains like an overenthusiastic alarm clock, dragging you out of sleep with its gentle warmth. you stretch lazily, limbs still heavy and sticky from the weight of...the previous night's activities.

the sheets feel ridiculous soft, kudos to the insanely over-priced hotel. and for a second, you entertain the thought of just staying here. forever.

that is, until your eyes fall on raijin's amulet over on the wooden table.

and the fact that gojo is nowhere to be found.

you blink, squinting at the empty space beside you. your first instinct is to check besides the bed, and then under it, for fear that the six-foot three man has simply fallen off.

but your gaze falls on a tiny pink sticky-note on the nightstand. one that you suspect was pilfered from the scattered case file on the couch. you peer at looping cursive, scrawled in a blue marker.

don't eat anything yet! gone to get a proper breakfast!

you can't help the soft huff that leaves you, fond in its escape. you feel this sudden urge to don some proper clothes, to go down and join him in the warm sunlight.

but then you pause. perhaps, you ought not to. it would be fun to let him miss you just a bit. the thought of the gojo satoru standing there, waiting in line for entirely average pancakes is amusement enough for you.

but before you can pull the crisp sheets over your head, your eyes catch a glimpse of something else by the bed. a small, satin-blue box that didn't exist yesterday, in the world of cruel choices and...semi-successful missions.

the memory of yesterday pulls a frown from you, but you shake your head, determined to clear your thoughts.

you reach for it, letting your fingers run over the smooth surface, before tugging at the silver ribbon cautiously. half-expecting to find something weird like gojo's usual idea of a joke like a half-naked framed photo of him with a lipstick print.

ah!

but instead, inside the box lies a thin necklace. you've stared longingly enough at shop windows to know that these are real diamonds. not the cheap kind either, a well-cut carat that makes you gasp to yourself, a flush running over your cheeks.

for a moment, he said nothing, and the silence stretched unbearably heavy. but then gojo’s ice-gaze dropped to the necklace scattered over your throat, and he tilted his head, "not too bad," a flicker of a scoff curling at his lips. "tch, they’re not even real," you blurted, then immediately regretted it, what was wrong with you today? you reached up, fingers grazing the cool crystals as if to shield them from his bemused scrutiny, "just thought i needed something to fit in."

you pick it up, feeling the cold weight of it in your hand. what is this, romance? a necklace? gojo satoru doesn’t even do romance. at least, not in the way anyone would expect.

he’s the kind of guy who would absolutely get you diamonds just to throw you off balance. mission accomplished.

you glance at the sticky note again, then back at the necklace. this is way too much for your sleep-addled brain. and yet, there’s this funny little thing inside you, a warm spark that you don’t know what to do with.

fuck, when did he even have the time to get this gorgeous gift?

you’re definitely not soft, but gojo does this thing to you — he has a way of turning your whole world upside down, and now…apparently, he’s gone and done it again.

your cheeks warm, but you don't admit to it. not yet. but there's no denying the softer spot that's growing in you, the urge to have gojo satoru in your arms in this very moment so you can run your hands through soft, white hair to watch him purr. to see his cheeks flush from a sweet blush as his blue eyes flutter shut.

your eyes fall on his crumpled uniform jacket from yesterday, his discarded clothes. perhaps, you could just join him. after all, you feel words threatening to spill from your mouth and you want him to hear them.

a surprise of your own? you think you want to see gojo satoru speechless for once.

do not plagiarise or repost! likes and reblogs appreciated. btw, this jenny packham was the dress i envisioned for reader but imagine whatever you like!

[heehoonies]

under the table

description: you and sim jaeyun have been academic rivals for as long as you can remember, competing intensely to beat the other in every class you've ever shared. for years, you've hidden your feelings for him, burying them deep down where jake can't find them, and you're hellbent on ensuring he never discovers your secret.

word count: 22k

contents: academic rivals to academic rivals with benefits to lovers, lots of angst, slight crack at points, overuse of nicknames (angel, pretty, gorgeous, etc), jake is kinda mean in the beginning, heejayhoon are flirty frat boy menaces, reader works herself to exhaustion in one scene, jake is stupid with emotions, characters get drunk/drink a lot, lots of party scenes and wonyoung as your roommate/best friend bc she's the first idol i thought of

smut warnings below the cut

a/n: thank u to my lovely bff @seung-log for letting me bounce ideas off of you and for beta reading this fic and giving me encouragement the entire way! ilysm <3

now playing: under the table by banks

smut warnings: dom!jake, sub!reader, hard and soft dom jake, implications of sub!jake (my agenda y'all he had to be here somewhere), degradation (slut, whore, etc), praise, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!), fingering, oral (m. and f. rec), handjob, titjob, multiple orgasms, squirting, hate fucking (kinda), cumming inside, cum swallowing, cum as lube (kinda), finger in ass (f. rec), orgasm delay, marking, biting, spit swallowing, dry humping, grinding, slight 'sir' kink, choking, slight size kink (big cock/tiny pussy), fucking with clothes on, overstimulation, crying, slight dacryphilia, clit pinching/slapping.

your eyes drag over your paper hurriedly, looking for the red ink splotched at the bottom of the page, skin tingling as blood rushes to your head.

95.

you flip your paper over, eyes darting to your side where a pair of big brown eyes are already staring back at you. jake raises an eyebrow at you, showing you the big fat 100 plastered on the top of his test sheet.

your nose scrunches as you attempt to not give any reaction to the fact that jake has beat you. once again.

“ha! knew it,” jake smirks, basking in his triumph.

“whatever, sim. you know physics is not my strongest subject.” you try to brush his statement off, but his gloating begins to get under your skin. you poke your tongue on the inside of your cheek, resisting the urge to smack him as he continues to sit there, simply staring. “what is it?”

jake shrugs, “nothing much, y/l/n, just the usual. enjoying the fact that i beat you for yet another week in a row.”

he’s absolutely over exaggerating, knowing you just topped his score in english literature yesterday. “whatever,” you repeat, not wanting to him to sense your sulkiness. “stop staring.” you wave a hand in front of his face to get him to look away, to which he relents after a moment.

jake would stare in shock and awe if he ever found out how this rivalry actually drives your anger. losing to him is always frustrating, of course, but nothing is more soul crushing than the butterflies bouncing around in your stomach every time jake looks at you and the way you fail to will them away every single time.

“wasn’t staring,” he disagrees, turning to face back towards the whiteboard, his leg beginning to bounce from the excess excitement.

“sure you weren’t,” you respond dryly, utterly too exhausted to deal with his bickering today. not with that way that stupid button up with rolled sleeves fits snugly on his biceps, round silver rimmed glasses sitting lazily on his nose, strands of hair falling delicately across his face. to top it all off, he’s wearing a ring on his pointer finger, tapping it lightly against the edge of the desk. the sound is bothersome, but not as bothersome as how utterly attracted you are to the mere image of the metal around his long finger. long fingers that are attached to large hands that lead to buff, veiny arms and broad shoulders, the whole sight nearly making you drool.

he must know how absolutely attractive he is right now. he must.

“hey jake, you going to the party at heeseung’s frat tonight?” jungwon calls from the seat behind him.

jake turns, nodding slightly, “jay and hoon are forcing me to go, i told them i already had plans but they wouldn’t listen,” you scoff, digging through your backpack for your laptop, knowing his plans were simply to study the entire weekend, plans that completely mirrored your own. he glances at you with an eyebrow raised in confusion before turning back to jungwon. “why?”

“the sorority girls are all coming,” jungwon cracks a smile, the smugness in his voice dripping with every word that tumbles out. he lowers his voice, leaning in as you still, trying to listen to jungwon’s hushed tone. “karina’s gonna be there, bro.”

you freeze, eyes glancing up as you pray you’ve heard wrong. yu karina of phi mu royalty? the most gorgeous girl on campus who also, unfortunately for your cynical brain who wants so desperately to hate the girl, happens to be the kindest person on earth? of course jake would be interested in her, just like half the student body is.

jake nods slightly, muttering a “thanks, jungwon,” before turning back towards the front. you busy yourself with logging into your laptop, willing your brain to think about anything other than jake and karina together.

god, this is going to be a long day.

luckily enough, friday is the day where you only see jake once during your courses. you head home to your on campus apartment after the day ends, tired of your racing thoughts and hoping to recover in the confines of your warm blanket, cozied up with a good book and a cup of tea before doing some nightly revision.

you are not allowed such a reprieve from the day.

“y/nieeee!” wonyoung greets you at the door, a bright smile gracing her face. “we’re going out tonight!”

you drop your bag on the sofa before plopping down next to it, sinking deep into the cushions. “no, wony, we’re not going to heeseung’s party.”

her smile drops, pretty lips curling into a small frown, “why? and how did you even know there’s a party at heeseung’s tonight?”

“doesn’t matter. we’re absolutely not going.”

she huffs, stomping her foot lightly. “come onnnn y/n! don’t you ever get tired of working yourself to the bone week after week? i think you need a break, even if just for the night.”

you sigh, rubbing at your face with your hands, trying to fend off the impending headache that started on your walk from your classroom. you relent to her, a small sigh escaping your lips before you mutter, “jake’s going to be there.”

“and? don’t you want him to see your sexy ass in something skimpy?”

your cheeks burn at the insinuation of sim jake having his eyes on you in any context other than a negative one. “no, plus karina is going to be there. heard jungwon mentioning her specifically to him in physics today. so i’d rather not go and see something that’ll hurt my spirit more.” you pause for a moment, “he already beat my score on our physics quiz this morning, and i haven’t stopped thinking about him and her together all day. so can we please stay home?”

wonyoung sighs deeply, sitting down next to you. “who cares if they’re going to be there? you’re y/l/n y/n, you deserve to have a life outside of academics and obsessing over jake. and if he does get with her? then fuck him!”

you can feel your resolve breaking, knowing you can never truly say no to wonyoung with her pleading eyes and tiny pout.

“oh my god, fine.” you relent, sighing deeply when she jumps off of the couch with a little squeal. “oh i’m so excited! let’s go to your room, i know exactly what you’re going to wear.”

and that’s how you ended up standing outside heeseung’s frat house, your comfy tennis shoes contrasting the skin tight strappy black dress with a plunging neckline that wonyoung forced you to wear. “i’m not breaking my fucking ankle just so you can have more fun playing dress up, wony. it’s the dress and these shoes or i’m taking my ass there in sweatpants and no bra.”

“come on, let’s get a drink,” wonyoung grabs your hand and pushes her way through the crowd of bodies, “we’re probably gonna need it.”

“welcome ladies! wonyoung, nice to see you again.” you are both greeted by park jay mixing drinks when you step into the precipice of the kitchen. he does a double take when his eyes register you in front of him. “and y/n, wow! you look drop dead gorgeous. i’ve never seen you at one of these parties before.”

your cheeks burn lightly as you opt to ignore his comment, knowing jay’s reputation with the student body for being a man who… definitely gets around. wonyoung lets go of your hand, beginning to browse the drink options laid out on the kitchen island in front of her. “yeah, wonyoung made me.” you respond, coming to stand on the opposite side of jay as you eye the shaker in his hands. “you playing bartender?” he nods slightly. “what’s the strongest thing you can make me?”

jay chuckles in response as he pours what he was mixing in the tumbler. “here, try this,” he hands you the cup. you take a reluctant sip, the liquid going down with a strong burn. you shake your head lightly in response to the strength before downing the entire cup in a few gulps, needing the liquid confidence desperately.

“a woman after my own heart,” he stares for a moment before handing you another drink, this one pre-prepared. “try this one. don’t down it all at once though, i won’t be able to satisfy you if you keep that up.”

you nod, taking a small sip before a warm feeling begins to settle in your belly. “this one is tastier.”

“figured you’d like it, a sweet drink for a sweet girl.”

wonyoung cocks an eyebrow at him before shaking her head lightly at the way his gaze is completely on you, the ogling he’s giving your curves going right over your head but catching her attention instead. “me next, bartender.” he nods, turning back to face the counter. “your regular?” she nods in response, walking around him to slide up against you.

“you have a regular?” you giggle at her. wonyoung nods lightly, the small smile never leaving her lips, “jay’s been playing bartender for me since we were still in high school.”

jay makes wonyoung her drink and hands it over and the two of you exit the kitchen, opting to walk outside for some fresh air and maybe a free spot on the lawn to sit down at. there are small clumps of people scattered around the impeccably green lawn. people sip from cups and bottles, a few from cans. there are fairy lights strewn across the underside of the covered porch, and you wonder which frat member’s girlfriend convinced them to put them there. the moon illuminates the darker parts of the lawn, some of them coated in artificial light from various tiki torches strewn about aimlessly, stuck into the group roughly.

“wonyoung!” lee heeseung’s booming voice carries across the lawn from where heeseung and sunghoon are playing beer pong. “come join!”

you approach the table, “y/n, is that you?” you nod, smiling. “hi, heeseung.”

“is this your first frat party?” you nod again and he cracks a smile in response. “how are you enjoying it?”

“we just got here, so i haven’t seen much.” heeseung nods, scooting over on his side of the ping pong table.

“be my partner, wonyoung go stand by hoon.” you find nothing inside of you that wants to argue, knowing that you and heeseung get along, as much as two people who don’t know each other all that well can get along.

you glance up at heeseung as you stand next to him, “i’ve never played, heeseung.” his smile grows wider at your admission. “well, it’s our turn, so let me show you.”

heeseung moves you to stand in front of him, pressing you between the edge of the table and his wide t-shirt covered chest. “so grab the ball,” he places it in your hand before covering it with his own, much larger one. “aim, and toss!” heeseung guides you to toss the ball, it lands in one of the cups with a satisfying plop and you smile, glancing up at him where he’s smiling back down at you.

across the lawn, unbeknownst to you, an irritated sim jaeyun is ignoring his conversation with karina, watching the way heeseung is crowding your space and holding your hand. he’s not mad, no, why the hell would he be mad? he hates you. he’s got the yu karina in front of him giving him bedroom eyes, yet all he can focus on is the way heeseung presses himself against your back. jake feels the strange anger brewing inside his gut, completely checked out of his conversation with karina.

karina is here, ripe for the taking, absolutely willing and eager to flirt with jake, but all he can manage to do is stare at you, willing you with his mind to glance over at him, to see him standing here with her. he can’t believe you’re standing so close to his best friend, basically inviting him to fuck you in front of everyone here with your innocent stare.

wonyoung takes the cup and downs it, “next time let her throw for herself, hee.” sunghoon accuses, “no cheating in beer pong, man.”

“y/n’s never played!” heeseung defends, never moving from where he’s got you trapped, his body feeling so close and his towering size intimidating you a bit. “had to teach her, it’s the least i can do.”

before he can register how his body is reacting, jake’s leaving karina without so much as a second glance as his legs carry him over to the table. “move over hoon,” jake commands from the other side of the table. heeseung meets jake’s eye, having a silent conversation that not even sunghoon is privy to. heeseung gives sunghoon a look and sunghoon relents, allowing jake to take his place before wandering off to see jay in the kitchen and maybe find out if riki is passed out somewhere. wonyoung catches your gaze, her eyes as confused as yours are at the sudden intrusion. “gonna school you, y/n, just like i did in physics this morning.”

you roll your eyes while heeseung feels your body tense in his hold. “it’s okay, we got this. jake sucks at beer pong.” he says lowly, smiling to reassure you. you nod your head in response.

jake does, in fact, suck at beer pong, a fact you become well aware of within his first few throws. usually jake is decent at beer pong! but heeseung has watched jake down multiple drinks this evening, and when jake gets drunk, his beer pong skills significantly drop off. jake swears under his breath with every miss, hatred brewing behind his gaze every time he sees the way heeseung keeps you held in place, the way the pair of you celebrate every successful toss with a small high five, heeseung’s hand dwarfing yours in size.

“you lose, jakey boy,” heeseung announces as you sink the last ball with a bit of guidance from him. jake downs the last cup before slamming it back down on the table, the flimsy plastic being crushed beneath his hand a bit. heeseung gives you a squeeze of the shoulders and one last high five, “don’t be a sore loser, man.” heeseung moves, finally letting you escape as you walk to meet wonyoung at the other end of the table. heeseung grabs jake by the scruff of his neck, guiding him to another part of the backyard.

“god, that was so weird.” wonyoung shakes her head, “why was jake so mad? and heeseung is being weird too…”

the words swim in your own brain. was jake mad that you were there at all? you’ve never been to one of heeseung’s parties before, so that could be it, he could feel like you’re intruding on his space. you’d feel the same way if he ever raided one of you and wonyoung’s girls’ nights; though wonyoung would argue that that is a completely different situation if she ever heard your battling thoughts. was it because heeseung was so close to you? did he think you were cheating at beer pong like sunghoon did? that’s just too many questions for your already intoxicated brain to handle. your heart swelled at the fleeting thought that maybe he was angry that heeseung was close to you for an entirely different reason, completely unrelated to the game or his urge to beat you in every aspect of your shared existence.

“i think it’s time for us to go home,” you interject her ramblings, the entire situation beginning to overwhelm you, “i’m feeling tired.”

wonyoung eyes you with a raised eyebrow and a slightly squeaky whine as the two of you walk inside, “we just got here! come dance with me at least for a little bit.”

across the lawn, heeseung is scolding jake. “why are you being a fucking asshole to y/n, bro? she’s just trying to have a good time.”

“me? being an asshole? that’s rich coming from you, you we’re basically fucking her against the table, heeseung!”

heeseung rolls his eyes, knowing he was being very tame in comparison to some of the compromising situations jake has seen him in before. and it’s not like you or heeseung felt that way about each other. “i knew you’d be mad at that. jake, open your fucking eyes. people who actually hate each other don’t feel that way you do about her.”

jake’s drunk mind refuses to relent to heeseung’s words, always needing to be right and knowing heeseung is dead wrong, “shut the fuck up, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“i do, actually, and i know better than you do.” heeseung shakes his head, sighing, “you’re too stubborn for your own good, sim.”

“fuck off man,” jake shakes himself out of heeseung’s grasp, heading inside for god only knows what reason. just to get away from heeseung and from his confusing thoughts of you, he supposes, in his far too drunk mind.

wonyoung tugs you into the living room that’s been taken over as a dance floor, but you tear away from her before she can drag you into the sea of people, trying to avoid dancing entirely. “i’m going to find the bathroom,” wonyoung’s attention is grabbed by a mutual friend of yours and she stays to chat with them, watching you stumble into a nearby hallway out of the corner of her eye, following your figure until you disappear around a corner, worry bubbling in her gut.

someone stumbles into you, nearly knocking you onto your ass. “hey, watch where you’re g-”

your sentence is cut off by someone pressing you against the wall in the dark corner of the hall, your eyes rising to meet a pair of pretty brown ones, jake’s pupils wide from how buzzed he is right now. you can feel yourself tensing in his hold, both scared and turned on from the mere proximity of his body. the heat of his body overwhelms you as he places one hand on your waist, the other against the wall at the side of your head, trapping you in place beneath his towering frame. “get off of me, sim,” you push against his chest, his body not moving an inch. fuck him and his broad shoulders and his thick, toned arms.

“are you trying to piss me off or something?” jake seethes, and you can see the anger in his eyes and the way he grips your hip tightly, threatening to leave a bruise. “trying to fuck all my friends? just opening your legs for every one of them like a whore?”

“fuck off, jake!” you argue, anger bubbling as you watch his eyes scan across your face, trying to ignore the bubbling arousal building in your gut, overwhelmed by his voice, eyes, presence, all of him being so terrifyingly close to you. “if i wanted to fuck all your friends, i already would’ve!”

jake’s hand next to your head is suddenly gripping your chin, forcing your head to look up further and stare up at his face. he sucks at the inside of his cheek, trying to reel his anger back in. “listen here, princess. none of my friends would ever fuck you, so stop trying before you embarrass yourself. you’re pathetic,” he moves his hand from your chin to wrap around your throat lazily. you can’t help the way your panties stick to you, wetness growing at the sight of him degrading you, his big hand wrapped around your delicate neck. you can feel your brain slipping already. “you’re worthless, do you understand me?”

you nod dumbly, swallowing a bit of spit to keep yourself from drooling.

“good girl,” is all his drunk brain can tell you, voice gravelly and lower than you’ve ever heard. his vocal tone makes the feeling in the pit of your stomach reignite. “remember your place, doll.” you nod mindlessly again before he lets go of your throat, his hand at your waist shoving you away from him. “get out of here before i have to teach you a lesson.”

monday rolls around unceremoniously, and knowing you’ll have to see jake first thing this morning is making you consider skipping class entirely.

you shake your head, knowing that nobody, especially not a man, is worth jeopardizing your grades over. no matter how annoyingly attractive he is.

you plop down in your seat, ready for the lecture. jake saunters in, his usual smile plastered on his face before it drops at the mere sight of you. your heart sinks, knowing that even your academic rivalry has never produced that sort of reaction from him.

“so, you and heeseung, huh?”

jake sits down next to you, eyeing you inquisitively. “what? absolutely not!” you hiss, “why the hell would you think that, sim?”

“beer pong,” he mentions, in a tone that makes you feel like you’re stupid. “i don’t like heeseung and i know he doesn’t like me. be serious now, jake.” you scold him, desperately hoping he’ll drop this.

“didn’t seem like it to me,” is all he says before tugging his laptop out of his bag and watching as the professor walks in the classroom.

“whatever, sim,” you brush him off, and the rest of your sentence gets caught on your tongue. “not like i care what you think,” you wish you could say, despite knowing just how much of a lie it is.

“good morning everyone, i finally have your test from last week fully graded,” your history teacher greets everyone and begins winding up and down the aisles, handing back papers with various numbers scribbled on top of each.

she places your paper gently on your desk, a huge smile greeting your face once you see the large 100 sitting on top in deep red ink.

“don’t start gloating now, princess. i got the same. you're not special,” jake’s words kill your remaining semblance of a good mood, feeling like he’s being meaner than he usually is.

“jake it’s 8 am, stop being such an asshole so early in the morning.” you fight, shoving the paper in your bag unceremoniously, missing the small frown that flits across his features. his thoughts flick back to heeseung scolding him at the party, making the frown grow on his face. you nose scrunches at his actions not turning you on like they normally did, instead just making you angry at him.

he shouldn’t feel bad, he really shouldn’t, and he's tricked his brain into thinking he truly doesn't care. your relationship has always been like this. something about seeing you this weekend made jake extra angry, and you’re the one he needs to take it out on. and if he kills your mood to match his already bad one? then all the better for his ego, annoying you being one of his favorite past times.

he continues his nasty quips throughout the rest of class, ones you try your hardest to ignore but somehow they slip under your armor and make hits at your fragile heart every single time.

after spending your down time studying in the library, you reach your next course and sit next to jake in math, leg bouncing roughly at the anxiety brewing at the thought of losing to jake again.

“oh thank god,” you sigh in relief, a 99 with a large circle sitting at the top of your surprise quiz from last week. jake feels his face twitch as he glances over to find your test sporting a higher score. he never loses to you in math, and he can feel his anger boiling.

“lucky break, y/n,” he bites, not missing the way your eyes turn downcast silently instead of fighting him with a quick, competitive response. jake doesn’t know why the sight of you ignoring him and not even arguing back makes his heart twinge.

class after class for the rest of the week, you keep topping jake’s score, but you can’t bring it in yourself to care. you feel like his combative words are filled with real venom now, versus the usual merely competitive undertones that they carry. sure, you enjoy when he’s mean sometimes, but it feels like he’s somehow crossed an imaginary line between sexy and hateful. and your brain can only take so much negative rhetoric before you’re closing in on yourself, blurring the edges of your consciousness to prevent any more hurt from being cast upon your body and mind. you barely stumble your way through the week, struggling to even drag yourself to class every day, knowing you’ll be met with his usually soft brown eyes staring daggers into your side profile.

you’re so worn down from the emotional toll this week has taken on you that you don’t even care that wonyoung shoves you into another tiny dress and drags you to another party hosted by heeseung. you choose to keep your inner turmoil to yourself, and wonyoung relents, allowing you to have your secrets for now despite being able to sense that something is absolutely wrong.

“jay, give y/n what you gave her last weekend, she needs it.”

“welcome back, pretty girl,” jay greets you, “bad week?” you nod numbly, meeting his gaze with obviously tired eyes. “let jay help you.” he gives you a soft smile, beginning to whip up exactly what he gave you last weekend.

“thank you, jay,” jay notices the smile doesn’t reach your eyes, but he doesn’t take it personally. “anytime, pretty.”

wonyoung grabs the nearest bottle of whatever beer they’ve stocked up on for this so called rager and follows you as you wander aimlessly. she grips your elbow, leading you to an open seat on the sofa in the living room. the party is less packed than last weekend, with only a few people mingling around the house, the living room no longer being taken over by an impromptu dance floor.

“hi y/n, hey wonyoung,” jungwon greets the pair of you, dropping down into the cushion next to wonyoung. “what’s up? enjoying the party?”

you nod simply, nursing your cup gently as your eyes can’t focus on any one thing in the room, vision slightly fuzzy and never once regaining clarity as you let all thoughts leave your head.

“you with us, y/n?” wonyoung waves a hand in front of your face. unbeknownst to you, ten minutes had already passed and both wony and jungwon had watched you as you barely even moved, aside from the cup occasionally being pressed to your lips. “yeah, sorry.” you mumble out. wonyoung gives your shoulder a small squeeze before rising to her feet. “we’ll be right back, jungwon and i need a refill, okay?” you nod as her figure disappears into the house.

a large shadow casts above you, drawing your attention up to meet big brown eyes. “why are you here? here to gloat some more?”

a small sigh leaves your lips as you tear your gaze from him before downing your drink at once, eyes fluttering shut. you place the cup on the coffee table in front of you before looking back up at him, “i don’t have the energy to fight with you right now, jake. please just leave me alone.”

jake sits down next to you, hand resting on your knee as he whispers lowly for only you to hear, “so you’re trying to act like you didn’t just kick my ass all week? you’re not gonna say anything about that?”

you nod a little, unable to meet his gaze, “jake, i’m so tired, please. i don’t want to fight right now.”

seeing the vision of you, a usually fiery, independent, self assured woman, surrendering to his words so easily causes a twitch in jake’s pants, his jeans beginning to feel a little too snug all of a sudden. “is that so?” he teases, his anger from the week still present in the undertones of his speech. “so you don’t even have the energy to be a good rival and taunt me back?”

you shake your head, “jake, please,” you whine, and its music to his ears. he squeezes your knee lightly, invading your space some more. “please what, angel?”

your cheeks burn at the sudden nickname, mouth going dry at the three little words he’s just whispered to you. you stare at him with doe eyes and a shut mouth. “what is it, you can tell me.” he tries to coax the admission out of you.

“just so tired…” you relent, limbs feeling heavy.

jake stands and pulls you to your feet, ignoring how heavy his cock feels behind his denim as he leads you upstairs, “come on, let’s go find somewhere you can lie down.” the sudden kindness he’s showing you would strike you as strange if you were in your right mind, but the fogginess taking over your brain hides how absolutely weird this would be on a normal day between you and jake.

jake tugs the door of heeseung’s room open, guiding you inside before shutting the door and locking it. “lie down.” his voice is gentle, coaxing you into submission and a sense of calm, feeling safer knowing you’re away from the crowd and are able to breathe a little better without a thin sheen of smoke filling your lungs and obscuring your vision.

you obey, crawling under the covers that he’s pulled back for you before he tucks you under the plush material. “you shouldn’t be here while you’re feeling like this,” jake scolds you. your eyes shut gently, already falling asleep with a heavy heart and heavier limbs. jake watches you with a protective gaze as you drift off into dreamland, a sigh leaving his lips knowing you might finally have time to just exist, versus your usual act of constantly pushing yourself to the limit and further.

“you can’t just let people crash in my room, jake!”

“it’s y/n, hee.” jake glances up at the taller man for a moment, “she… something was wrong, but i didn’t want to send her home by herself. wonyoung certainly wasn’t going to go with her.” he scoffs at your roommate’s inability to grasp how strange you were acting. heeseung’s eyebrows shoot up at this admission, nodding slightly. “is she okay now?” he questions.

“she’s still sleeping,” heeseung had caught jake sneaking out of his room trying to get you a glass of water for when you wake up, planning to run up and continue watching you as you slept. not in a creepy way, just in a i don’t want anybody to come in this room trying to fuck on heeseung’s bed while y/n is sleeping there kind of way, as well as a i need to make sure no one tries to take advantage of her kind of way. why he wanted to do all of this, why he was treating you this way at all was still a mystery to him. “didn’t want anyone coming in and waking her up or messing with her while she’s sleeping.”

heeseung scoffs a bit at his answer, “you still don’t get it, do you?”

jake watches him with a blank stare, “get what?” he shakes his head in response, muttering a quiet “nothing,” before peeking inside his room to check on you.

“she’s fine, heeseung.” jake argues, quietly yanking the door shut. “let her sleep.”

heeseung shakes his head, “just let her uber home with wonyoung,” he suggests, testing the waters further to prove his theory is rocksolid.

jake gives him a glare that could kill, “did you not fucking listen to a word i just said?”

bingo.

“i’m kidding, chill.”

jake lets the comment go as well as he can, “if you’re done saying stupid shit, can you go grab me some water for when she wakes up?” heeseung scoffs at his words, but returns shortly with a bottle of water, to which jake gives him a small thank you in return.

“just… try not to be an asshole when she wakes up, okay?”

you don’t know how you got home that night. wonyoung told you it was jungwon ordering the three of you an uber, opting to leave with you since he lives in your building with sunoo and riki as his roommates. the rest of the weekend passes unceremoniously, your color slowly coming back after an absolutely off week. as you slouch down into the chair next to his on monday morning, you can only hope jake doesn’t fuck up your good mood as fast as he did last week.

“had a fun weekend?” you can’t decipher the tone of his voice.

“it was fine, i guess.” you shrug in response. “i don’t remember most of it.” you admit, not even caring how absolutely embarrassing that sounds, especially coming from someone of your academic caliber and positive reputation.

jake’s face seems to drop at your admission, quickly shaking off the expression, “well, are you ready for another week of me kicking your ass?”

“we’ll see about that, sim.” you smirk lightly, feeling your spark in this rivalry returning a bit, along with your deeply imbedded feelings for the man beside you. jake seems to have let go of the intense hatred he was holding the previous week, a friendly feeling returning to your long standing rivalry. “don’t think i’m gonna go easy on you, now.”

jake smiles secretly, happy to see the pep back in your step, so to speak. he hated seeing you the way you were at the party, your eyes looking lifeless and staring into the void aimlessly before he laid you down for a well deserved nap.

“hmm, what’d you get?” you peer down at the paper your professor has just laid in front of you. “97. you?”

“98.”

jake groans loudly, “god, you can’t just let me win, can you?” a smile graces your lips, “nope, you’ll have to fight me for it, sim.”

“alright, you two,” jay teases the two of you and you turn to face him. “y/n, you’ll never guess what today is.” he smiles brightly.

“i’m not sure, what is it, jay?”

“it’s my birthday, and i’m throwing a party at the frat tonight.” you smile at his admission, “will i see you there?”

jake shakes his head, teasing, “no, she’s probably gotta stud-”

“sure,” you interrupt jake, shooting him a glare before looking back at jay, “i’ll be there, jay.” you offer him a small smile, one which he mirrors while jake looks between the two of you with a scowl.

oh, you’re gonna get it.

you arrive at jay’s party, opting for a more casual pleated skirt and t-shirt since jay told you it was casual wear and he wanted a chill vibe, just some close friends. you’re assuming he invited you because of wonyoung, who had to opt out of tonight’s festivities since the poor girl caught a nasty case of the flu over the weekend. you heated up some canned soup for her and made tea before leaving for the night, telling her to text you immediately if she starts to feel worse.

“hi, gorgeous,” heeseung smiles at you, greeting you warmly and placing a drink in your hands.

“hi, heeseung,” you return his smile, watching him over the rim of your solo cup as you take a sip. “damn, this is nasty. what the hell is this?”

he shrugs lightly, “beats me. jay’s mingling instead of making drinks, so sunghoon’s doing the best that he can, i guess.” you nod before bravely taking another sip of the gross concoction.

“where’s the birthday boy?”

“ask and he shall appear,” jay smiles, coming to stand next to heeseung, “hi, angel, glad you could make it.” you smile at the two men towering over you. “thanks for inviting me, and wony sends her apologies. she got sick over the weekend.”

“that’s alright, hope she feels better.” heeseung says before the two of them begin whisking you off into another part of the house. heeseung separates from you and jay to greet a few people, jay’s hand on your waist to guide you without you getting lost. “i heard hoon’s making drinks? this is nasty, jay, have you taught him nothing?” you tease, glancing behind you at a loud noise sounds behind you. after finding nothing, you begin to turn back to jay before your eyes find jake standing with karina. the sight makes your blood boil, but you nearly shiver after finding him already staring over at you and jay out of the side of his eye. you shake off his dark stare, returning to your conversation with jay, not noticing the way his hand hasn’t left your waist despite the two of you no longer moving through the house.

“i’ll be right back,” jake tells karina, no longer focused on their conversation. karina scoffs lightly, knowing this is the second time in two weeks that jake has left her high and dry while she’s been trying to talk to him.

“jay,” jake greets his best friend, earning him a look of confusion from the birthday boy, “y/n, can i talk to you?” you glance at jay with a confused look, the man in front of you mirroring the same expression back at you.

“i– sure, jake.” you relent, setting down your already empty cup on a random surface before he’s tugging your arm, not caring about the searing grip he has on your wrist.

“didn’t i warn you to not fuck my friends?” jake’s hushed voice meets your ears, a frown pulling onto your lips at the question. you don’t remember talking about being attracted to any of his friends at all, let alone with jake himself.

“what are you talking about, sim?” you question, growing irritated at the implication that he probably thinks you’re easy.

“god, you’re so stupid sometimes,” he growls, pressing you against a bedroom door in the empty hallway. “you don’t even see them all eye fucking you? don’t be naive, y/n.”

you shake your head, convinced he’s fucking with you. “jake, your friends aren’t eye fucking me it’s called being friends with the opposite sex, you should try it instead of being an asshole all the time!”

jake yanks the handle near your hip, tugging the door open and shoving both of you inside before locking it behind him. “you drive me up the fucking wall, you know that?”

“the feeling is mutual, sim,” you deadpan. “are you done yelling at me? i’m ready to leave this fucking room and get far away from you. i’m trying to enjoy myself tonight, jake, i don’t need you fucking with my mood again.”

the dam in his mind breaks, and suddenly jake feels all his resolve slip away. he pushes you up against the closed door and squishes you against it. “god, you’re so fucking annoying, you know that? always know how to push my fucking buttons.”

the proximity has you holding your breath, waiting for his next searing words to tumble out of those plush lips.

“stop staring at my lips,” he demands, taking both of your wrists in one grip of his hand and holding them above your head. “you gonna keep making me mad?”

“stop fucking with me, jake, let me leave.” you know your words hold no weight in either of your minds, your body betraying you as your arousal is evident in the way your legs squeeze together.

jake shakes his head, “you need to shut up and take what i give you, since you’re so ready to be a slut for all my friends.” he grips your chin and squishes your cheeks with his other hand. “you gonna behave for me? or are you gonna be a brat?”

you finally relent, letting go of your argumentative front that you’ve put up around him for years as his grip on your cheeks loosens. you relish in the feeling of allowing him to take control, of jake offering you a moment to just exist without any expectations or responsibilities, to let him take care of you completely, “‘m gonna be good for you, jake.” you watch him with big eyes, his stare unrelenting as he watches you for any sort of discomfort.

“you sure you can take it, angel? i’m not gonna be nice.” you nod briefly, trying to use your hand before he grips tighter, “what is it, pretty? you can still back out now.” he tells you, giving you full control of the situation for a moment.

he watches a look flash across your face before you look downwards, embarrassed at the thought of what you’re about to ask. jake tugs your face to look back at up at him roughly, “want you to choke me,” you mumble. he grins wildly at your admission, hand on your chin snaking down to rest at the base of your neck. “like that, baby?” you nod slightly, pressing your legs further together under his intense stare. “tell jake what else you need.”

you take advantage of his momentary kindness to lean forward and capture his plump lips in a kiss, dirty and messy and utterly desperate. desperate for his touch, however you can get it. jake returns the favor, slotting his lips against yours, feeling every crevice of your gorgeous lips under his own. he fights back a moan, knowing he needs to maintain dominance over the situation. he squeezes tighter on your neck and you let out a small moan, allowing him to press his tongue into your mouth. you nearly gasp at the intrusion, relishing in the feeling of him nearly eating you from the inside out.

jake pulls away to stare back at your face, your expression already portraying how utterly fucked out you are just from a few touches. “can’t just take what you’re given, can you? greedy girl.” his tone is laced with warning.

“i can take it,” you argue lightly and he chuckles before moving you from the door to the bed, making you lie down on the mattress in front of him. “promise.”

“i believe you.” jake admits, sinking down to his knees and flipping your skirt up before pressing his nose against your clothed core. “bet you taste delicious, angel,” he stays there for a moment, licking against the fabric of your panties before pulling away. jake stands back up and unbuckles his belt, “another time, baby. need to fuck the attitude right out of you. always getting on my nerves.”

you watch as jake drops his pants and boxes just below his knees, revealing a thick, veiny cock with a blushing red tip. your cheeks go redder at the sight of him, already afraid of the stretch, “you’re so big.” the words tumble out of you without realization, your cheeks burning at the sudden admission.

“i told you i’m the best, baby,” he taunts you, “don’t worry, i’ll make you take it all like the cock slut we both know you are.” jake rips your panties, pulling a gasp from your chest as he holds the tip against your wet folds, the sight hidden from you by your skirt, “god, this turns you on, doesn’t it? when i call you a pretty little whore?” he feels your walls tighten slightly around his tip at his words and smirk casts over jake’s lips. “so all this time, my little angel has been getting wet every time we talk? dirty girl.” you shake your head, trying to hide your embarrassed face as your cheeks heat up. “don’t lie baby, i can feel you clenching around me.”

all the air is knocked out of your lungs when jake buries his huge length all the way inside, your hands going up to grab his biceps for something to hang onto as he begins ravaging you with a brutal pace, “see what you do to me? you make me so fucking angry, i can’t help but take it all out on you.” he feels your walls flutter around him as his thick cock drags against you, feeling every ridge of your pussy as his tip bruises your cervix with repeated precision. “god, you’re taking me so well, tiny little pussy was made to be destroyed by my big cock, wasn’t it?”

you nod dumbly, feeling cock drunk already, feeling yourself slip further away from reality with every drag of his veiny dick passing through you. jake fucks you into the mattress like he’s trying to split your entire body in half. you can’t get enough as jake moves your arms for a moment to tear your shirt off your body hastily, both hands reaching around and unclasping your bra before discarding both items somewhere in this random bedroom. he watches your tits bounce with each deep thrust, “god look at your tits baby, fuck– i could just eat you alive right now.”

“please,” you whine, not knowing what you’re whining for. “please what, my pretty little slut?” you don’t answer him, moaning loudly as he takes both your tits in his grasp, a hand holding each in a grip that’ll surely leave a mark.

“that’s what i thought,” he quips as he continues to plow into you, his head starting to spin from the feeling of your walls sucking him in with every thrust, never fully accommodating his size, “fuck, just take it all like a good cock slut, you were made to take me.”

his squeezing of one of your tits halts, moving down to pinch your swollen clit harshly, smiling wickedly at the groan of pain and pleasure that escapes your mouth. “too much?” you nod roughly, pleading eyes meeting his dark gaze, “too fucking bad.”

jake begins alternating between pinching and slapping your clit, relishing at the slight squeeze each action grants him, feeling himself tumbling to the edge already. “don’t you dare fucking cum,” he warns as he grabs your hips, shoving you up and down on his length like a fuckdoll, and you take it, sitting pretty with gasps leaving your parted lips as he chases his own pleasure. “fuuuuuck,” jake stills, cumming deep inside you, holding your hips flush to his body until he’s milked his own cock dry. you can feel your body on the edge of an orgasm as you wait for jake to finish you off now that he’s cum inside you.

he pulls out, watching his cum drip out of your gaping hole, “god, you still make me so fucking mad,” jake shoves his length back inside roughly, stuffing his cum back into you, “can’t wait to watch you come undone beneath me.” he moans, rubbing rough circles against your clit. you throw your head back, moaning his name loudly.

“that’s it, pretty baby, let everyone know who’s making you feel this good,” jake leans in and bites the skin on your neck, sucking and licking at the spot to soothe it after. he places a sloppy, open mouthed kiss there before leaning up and prying your lips apart, mouth opening obediently. your eyes open in shock, watching him hover above you before he spits in your mouth, then sliding his hand down to rest at the base of your neck, squeezing lightly. “swallow it.” you follow his instructions promptly, a moan escaping your lips after feeling it slide down your throat paired with the pressure he’s applying.

“cum all over my cock, angel,” jake growls in your ear, the grit in his voice causing your dam to break, the rubber band in your stomach snapping before your eyes roll back, colors passing through your vision and limbs feeling numb and tingly as jake fucks you through your orgasm.

“jake, stop–” you attempt to push him off, your actions doing nothing to halt his movements, feeling overstimulated as your orgasm finishes washing over your body. “jake–”

jake leans in, capturing your lips in a messy, sloppy kiss to distract you as he slowly slips out of you, taking his fingers and shoving the cum mixture back into your leaking hole. he pulls away, glancing down at the sight of both of your fluids leaking out of you, groaning at the sight, “fuck, you’re perfect,” his head feels dizzy as he catches your lips again, biting softly against your bottom lip before pulling away again. “let me clean you up,” jake presses a final kiss against your lips, resisting the urge to slip his tongue down your throat as far as it can reach.

he returns shortly with a wet cloth from the en suite bathroom, manhandling you to sit further up against the pillows before wiping you down, getting the cum out of your gaping hole. he returns to the bathroom, wiping himself off before tugging his jeans back onto his hips and tossing the washcloth in the trash. whatever frat brother this room belongs to certainly won’t be missing that…

you stare up at the ceiling, panting and wiping the sweat from your forehead. “fuck.”

“fuck what? fuck you? i just did,” he argues, grabbing your torn panties from wherever they landed in the room and pocketing them discreetly.

“shut up, sim,” you cover your eyes with your arm, refusing to look at him.

“hey, look at me,” jake pries your arm off and your eyes open slowly, the sight of him with his post sex glow knocking the wind out of you. “you okay?” his question is sincere, his gaze on you doubly so. you nod lightly, a small smile taking over your features, “good.”

“can’t believe you ripped my panties…” you grumble, sitting up slightly to look for your shirt and bra. jake’s hands grip your tits absentmindedly, “i’m not a fucking stressball, jake!” jake just laughs, pinching one of your nipples in retaliation, watching the nearly silent moan that leaves your perfect pink lips. “fuck, don’t do that again unless you want another round.”

he perks up at the words, “you really mean that?”

“i–”

a loud pounding on the door startles both of you, “open the fuck up!”

you scramble to grab your bra and shirt, shoving them back on as jake wills his slowly rising dick to lower once more. he glances at you and you nod at him. jake unlocks the door and swings it open, meeting the eyes of a very tall, very angry man.

“get the fuck out, both of you,” he booms and the two of you scurry out quickly, a small giggle escaping your lips at the sight of his bright red, angry face.

“he was gonna kick your ass, jake…” you tell him as the two of you rush down the hallway, unknowingly in the opposite direction of the living room.

“would’ve been worth it,” jake smirks, stopping and gripping your hips lightly, the intimacy of his thumbs rubbing on your bare skin making your head spin, “your pussy is heaven.”

you smile, small and subtle, eyes wide, “not mad at me anymore?”

he shakes his lightly, “could never really be mad at you.” jake offers you a coy smile.

“doesn’t seem like it,” you argue, smile slipping from your features the tiniest bit. “well… every time you make me mad i can just fuck you like that again. is that what you want, pretty girl?”

your cheeks burn at the sudden nickname, “is that what you want, jake?” he nods slightly, “i’ll fuck you whenever and where ever you want if you’ll let me, baby. no strings attached.”

your heart drops at those three little words leaving his lips, hope of jake reciprocating your feeling sinking deeper into the abyss that clouds your mind most days. his offer is a glimmer of hope, your brain reeling to feel him like that again, even if he’s ‘fucking the attitude’ out of you over and over. you nod, “yeah, i’d like that.” you half-lie, continuing to shield your true feelings from him.

“just promise not to fuck any of my friends… you’re mine now.” you nod, heart fluttering at the implication of being jake’s, and the sudden possessiveness he’s now displaying.

jake’s grin grows, pulling you in by your hips for a frantic kiss, pushing his tongue past the expanse of your lips, exploring your mouth with need. you sink into his hold, stomach fluttering at the feeling of one of his hands reaching your ass, squeezing it in his large palm. you groan against his plush lips, allowing him to slip his tongue further down your throat.

“oh my god–” a shrill voice screeching from behind you has you pulling away from jake, seeing sunoo standing there, his hand now covering his eyes, “i’m so sorry, i– jay just told me to round everyone up for cake.” he apologizes and promptly rushes back to the living room.

“don’t worry,” jake whispers, “i can make sure sunoo doesn’t tell a soul, say the word and it’ll be our little secret, angel.”

you nod slightly, staring up at him with wide eyes, “thank you, jake.”

“anything you need and i’ll make it happen,” he promises, giving your ass one last squeeze and a small smack before guiding you forward, “go join the party, i’ll be there in a minute.”

“where have you been, dude?” heeseung questions jake after the cake is cut and shared, prompting the shorter man to shake his head. “nowhere important.” he can see the hidden smile on jake’s face as heeseung watches him, smirking knowingly as he catches your eye in the crowd where you’re talking to riki and waves you over. you excuse yourself and approach the two of them, trying to hide the blush in your cheeks when you glance at jake.

“hi, y/n,” heeseung smiles, “wish you were here earlier, i kicked the birthday boy’s ass in beer pong. it was quite the show.”

you return his smile, “sorry i missed it,” you apologize sincerely, looking down at your plate as you break off another piece of cake to eat. heeseung glances at jake, the smirk still covering his lips. heeseung takes in the way the tips of jake’s ears are turning red as he watches you place a piece of cake in your mouth. “nowhere important, right?” his low tone misses your ears as you munch happily on the vanilla treat.

shit.

jake smacks the back of his head, shooting daggers at his best friend as he whispers, “shut up.”

heeseung leans over to speak into jake’s ear, “just don’t break her heart, jakey boy.”

things are normal between you and jake during the classes you share, for the most part. you can’t stop staring, watching jake and zoning out as your professors drone on about whatever topic you’re covering during the period. you watch his eyes, beautiful and brown, as they stare forward, glancing to meet your gaze every once in a while. you watch his lips, perfectly plump and pink, which tug into a smirk every time jake catches you staring, biting down on his bottom lip at the sight of you watching him.

you take in the overwhelming presence of him, your nerves running in overdrive since the night before, knowing how absolutely stuffed he makes you feel, how jake’s big hands burn where ever they touch, leaving you yearning to be constantly held by him and his soft palms. his hair urges to have a hand run through it, dark and falling across his face in a satisfying way, framing his forehead delicately.

everything about the man beside you overwhelms you, and you can’t seem to look away.

god, you’re fucked.

“what the hell is going on between you and jake?” jay questions as you approach him, nearly falling into him as you try to walk around despite the slight buzz filling your bloodstream.

“jongseong, i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tell him, grabbing a seltzer from the fridge and cracking it open, not hesitating to take a few gulps before returning your gaze to him. his eyebrow is quirked up when you look at him again, “you’ve never called me by my government name,” jay challenges, smirking with a knowing look.

“shut up,” you move to cover his mouth, to which he swats your hand away easily, his tolerance much higher than yours. “no,” he argues grabbing your wrist as you try to smack him, “i wanna know.”

you narrow your eyes at him, an action he sees right through, knowing you’re not actually angry seeing the blush growing on your cheeks, “nothing is going on between me and jake.”

“no, there’s something there,” jay tells you, “are you two fucking?”

you nearly spit your sip of seltzer out, coughing for a moment as he hits your back lightly, concern washing over jay’s sharp features. “jesus christ, y/n, don’t die in the frat house, none of these idiots here would know how to help you.”

you shake your head, breathing returning to normal, “jay, we’re not fucking.”

“you’re lying,” jay cracks a knowing smile, laughing lightly, “anyone with eyeballs is able to see there’s something there.”

your resolve begins to crumble, the alcohol seeming to take over your brain more and more, “i– i don’t know what we’re doing…” you shake your head lightly, “we… we fucked on your birthday,” you relinquish. “i… i don’t know how he feels about me, jay.” you hear a noise escape your throat, one that sounds far too vulnerable, and you chase the sound with another swig from the can in your hand. “i try not to think about feelings that much, honestly, they’re so overwhelming.”

jay laughs, “yeah… me neither, don’t worry,” he clinks his solo cup against your can and you both take a sip, “who made the first move?”

“jay!” you shove him, “stop asking so many damn questions!”

“tell her not to shove me like that, jake,” jay says, watching you with satisfaction as your eyes go wide and you whip around to see jake approaching the two of you. 

“don’t hit jay, princess, he has weak skin,” jake tells you, to which jay retorts with “fuck you, sim, you’re supposed to be on my side!”

princess?

well that’s a new one… all of these new nicknames jake has given you since he fucked you have been driving your head crazy, less than platonic feelings swelling inside your tiny, drunk brain as you stare up at the man who grabs a water from the fridge.

“i’m on no one’s side here,” jake argues, twisting the cap off and taking a sip of water. you watch his throat suck the liquid down, adam’s apple bobbing. your body buzzes in response to the small action, stopping yourself from reaching out and running a finger, or your tongue, over the expanse of his throat.

jay tucks a finger under your chin, pushing upwards to make your jaw return to the rest of your face. you smack him on the chest, “don’t touch me, jongseong,” you warn, trying to ignore the fact that you were nearly drooling over jake right in front of him.

“you wanted him to see you drooling, then?” jay counters, voice low enough for jake to miss it.

“shut the hell up,” you ignore his words, eyes returning to jake who is watching you expectantly.

“i’ll be back,” jay exits the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone in the dimly lit room among the various bottles of liquor lining the island and fridge.

“hi, gorgeous,” jake invades your space, pushing you backwards until your back is pressed against the edge of the cold granite countertop.

“jake!” you place your hands on his chest, trying to push him away, “are you trying to make sure people see us like this?!” jake wraps a hand around you, his palm splayed against your upper back, pressing you closer to him.

“maybe.”

you shake your head, watching his eyes darken as he watches you, “did you have fun talking to jay, baby?”

“jake, i’m not going to fuck him, so don’t even start getting mad,” you warn.

“i know pretty, i’m the only one who gets to see you like that, aren’t i?” your silence paired with flushed cheeks gives jake the answer he’s searching for, grinning in response. “good.”

“meet me in the bathroom at the end of the hall in two minutes,” he whispers into your ear before departing from the kitchen, the words making you squish your legs together. you wait with bated breath, watching as the clock on the microwave ticks to the next minute. fuck it, you mumble before setting your drink down and following him, knocking softly on the door before jake tugs you inside.

“hmm, eager, are we?” jake teases, locking the door and pulling you against him by your waist as he leans against the bathroom counter. “couldn’t wait any longer, could you?” you shake your head, words failing you as your face sits desperately close to his, desire swirling beneath your skin. “my obedient girl.”

“wanna suck your dick,” you beg, jake groaning and leaning his head back at your admission, “fuck, pretty, you can’t just say shit like that,” he pushes you down onto your knees, watching in awe as you instantly begin to fumble with his pants, tugging them down. you watch with wide eyes at the sight of his half hard dick sitting beneath his boxers, placing a kiss against the length through the fabric.

“don’t tease me, pretty girl,” jake warns, his tone conveying all the punishments you’d receive for disobeying him. “yes, sir,” you reply, the words going straight to jake’s cock as it hardens in your grasp. “say that again,” he groans, watching your tiny hand as you’re barely able to wrap all the way around his girth.

“say what again? sir?” you watch his cock twitch in your hand, the sight bringing a smirk to your face, kitten licking his tip before placing a delicate kiss on his slit. “you’re so big, sir, i don’t know if you’re gonna fit in my mouth…” you look up at him, blinking your eyes innocently.

you watch as his eyes darken at your actions, “i’ll make it fit, angel,” he presses on the back of your head, guiding you to take his length in your mouth. you slide down, his long cock pressing into the back of your throat harshly, the girth of it stretching your mouth out. “fuck, look at you– you were made to take my cock like this.” jake groans as he watches you suck him in, “my cock.” he reiterates and you nod around his length, continuing to bob up and down before jake takes control, fucking your face.

you begin to drool around his length as you let him use your mouth for his own pleasure, “fuck, baby, taking me so well– letting me fuck your throat like this, you’d let me do anything to this perfect body, wouldn’t you?” he doesn’t need a reply, already knowing the answer as he admires the way your lips stretch around his length, the sight stirring a feeling deep in his stomach. jake thinks you look gorgeous like this, gazing up at him with wide eyes and a hungry gaze, somehow taking his cock deeper every time.

his tip hits the back of your throat repeatedly as jake fucks your face, chasing his high. you keep your mouth slacked, his girth and length making you feel completely stuffed, “look at these tits,” jake watches your tits bounce beneath your tank top, “fuck, you’re perfect,” jake groans as you reach down and squeeze his balls with one of your hands, the other gripping his thigh to keep yourself upright as you sit back on your haunches.

“i’m gonna cum down that gorgeous throat,” jake babbles, even his mindless near-orgasm ramblings sound like music to your ears. he yanks you back and forth along his length a few more times before shoving your face against his pelvic bone, nose smushing against the space right above the base of his dick. you groan at the feeling of his cum hitting the back of your throat, “take it all like the dirty slut you are,” jake commands, pulling away from your mouth slowly after his balls are empty, watching you with a lazy gaze. “swallow.” you follow his instructions promptly, gulping down before sticking your tongue out for him to examine, the sight nearly making him hard again. “good fucking girl,” he praises you, tugging you up off of your knees to meet your lips in a searing kiss.

you groan realizing jake is tasting himself on your lips, the fact not seeming to bother the man as he pushes his tongue into your mouth hungrily, large hands holding your face possessively. “mine,” he whispers against your lips, feeling as you nod in response. “thank you, baby.” he presses one last, gentle kiss against your waiting lips as he tucks himself back into his jeans. “let me make you feel good, too.”

you shake your head, resting both of your hands on his chest, a yawn rising from deep in your belly, “i’m okay, jakey,” you offer him a smile, “tired all of a sudden.” 

“come on, i’ll take you home.”

“i missed you,” wonyoung smiles as the two of you sit together in the library, “feels like that damn flu took me out for fifty years,” she exaggerates, giggling lightly as she sips on her coffee through a small blue straw.

“i know. you’ve missed… a lot.” you cover your face, embarrassment already heating your cheeks. “i… jake and i are sleeping together.”

wonyoung squeals and you glance around worryingly, watching as other students glare at the two of you. you smile in apology, turning to wonyoung and smacking her arm, to which she exclaims a small, “ow!”

“why are you hitting me? this is so exciting!” she whisper yells.

you shake your head, “i mean, yeah it’s exciting, kind of…” you sigh before meeting her gaze, “he doesn’t… it’s… he made it clear that this is a no strings attached kind of situation.”

wonyoung’s eyes go wide, “you’re lying!” you shake your head as her expression shows how much of a hard time she is having trying to process this information. “i– and you agreed to that?”

you nod, shame dusting your face and ears in a deep pink hue, “i just… i couldn’t say no, he had just finished fucking the brains out of my skull, and i think i’m just desperate to have him around in any way that i can… even if it means hurting myself in the process.”

“my poor y/nnie… he still doesn’t know you like him?” you shake your head, to which wonyoung sighs, “it’s been so long, why don’t you just tell him? what’s the worst that could happen?”

“you know exactly what could happen, wony. i could fuck up years of a friendly-ish relationship, and double fuck up the situation we have now. feelings just get in the way of everything.”

wonyoung places her hand atop yours on the table, rubbing the back of your hand in a soothing motion, “well, whatever you decide, it will all turn out okay. i promise. i don’t think jake would ever hurt you on purpose.”

you inhale deeply at the thought of jake caring about you on more than a surface level. “don’t say that, don’t get my hopes up… it’s just gonna hurt more when everything ends up exploding in my face.”

you don’t know how jake convinced you to go to the library with him, citing something about how you’ve been sucking in class these days and he needed to make sure you were studying so that he still had someone to compete against. which was a lie, you were doing just fine in class recently.

you’re absolutely trying to study, but feeling jake beside you makes it an impossible feat. your eyes skim over the digital textbook on your laptop in front of you as jake zones out at random areas of the room, every once in a while his eyes landing on you as he stares for a beat before allowing his eyes to wander around the room once more.

jake’s leg is bouncing up and down as the two of you sit side by side, tapping a pattern on his jeans as he struggles to focus. you eye him up with a confused stare, “what is it?”

jake pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, the sight sending heat straight to your core. “you don’t wanna know, baby.”

his response has a strange bout of confidence sprouting inside your tummy. your hand rises to meet him, rubbing and squeezing on his inner thigh, scarily close to his dick that’s getting harder by the second, “you don’t wanna do that, angel.” jake warns, watching you with a dark gaze. you can see the lust fluttering through his irises, dark and intoxicatingly addictive. you move up to his clothed bulge, giving him a feather light squeeze. jake bites back a groan, his head tipping back as his eyes flutter shut in an attempt to keep his composure. he leans over to whisper in your ear. you can feel his breath on your neck sending shivers up your spine.

“stop, or i’ll bend you over this table right now and fuck you in front of everyone here.”

you gasp in response, grinning as you watch him with a mischievous look in your eye, one that he’s come to quickly recognize since agreeing to your… special relationship.

jake pulls back, his stare darker than moments before and you feel yourself falling into his brown eyes, pupils wide and staring at you as lust dances across his irises. “last chance to back out, angel.”

you shake your head lightly before jake rises, packing both bags in a hurry, tugging you out of the library and heading to your apartment building. “your apartment better be empty, or else wonyoung might get a free show.”

“oh my god, jake,” you’re barely able to keep up with him as he drags you along with him, nearly stumbling over your own feet to keep up. you enter your lobby, leading him to your first floor room and unlocking the door hastily. the moment he’s inside the foyer of your apartment, jake is shoving you up against the door, his lips finding yours instantly. “trying to work me up in front of everyone, baby?” he purrs, one hand cupping your face gently while the other has a searing grip on your hips. every spot he touches burns, watching him with affection in your gaze. “too needy to wait until later, huh?”

you nod dumbly, covering the hand against your cheek with your own, nuzzling against it as you try to hide your growing shame at being so insatiable that you couldn’t even be in public with him for more than thirty minutes before jumping his bones.

“oh, my pretty girl’s all shy now that we’re home? what happened to that brat attitude from before?” jake kisses the back of his teeth before placing a closed mouth kiss on your pouty lips. you hide from his gaze, embarrassed at your bratty behavior from before. “‘m sorry, sir.”

jake nearly moans hearing you use the name he heard for the first time just days before in the bathroom when you sucked his soul out through his dick. he pulls you close in another passionate, messy kiss. “yeah? baby’s sorry?” you nod, watching him with wide, innocent eyes, not seeing the wheels turning in his head as he watches your tiny figure with glee.

jake walks you through the hallway, lips wandering and planting kisses on every bit of exposed skin on your upper half. you lead him to your door, twisting the handle quickly before stumbling inside. jake shuts the door with his foot as he backs you up onto your bed. “i think my baby deserves a punishment.”

jake presses further against your lips, his hands sliding up your frame to hold your tits gently, “could play with these all day,” he mumbles, kneading them in his large hands. you kiss him back slowly, feeling the tension from the past few days dissipate the further he pulls you in, losing yourself in the feeling of his soft lips dancing against yours.

jake smiles as he gives each breast one final squeeze before pulling your sweatshirt over your head, “had i known you were bare under here, baby…” jake sucks harshly on your nipple, your back arching up against his mouth, begging for more.

“you’re lucky i didn’t bend you over that table,” he bites at your breast, leaving a teeth mark on the side of the plump flesh. “everyone would learn fast who you belong to, wouldn’t they?”

you nod, moaning out as he continues his onslaught against your nipple, sucking and biting with fervor, his cock standing tall and proud in his sweatpants.

“you wore those on purpose,” you squeak out between loud moans.

“what? these?” jake motions to the gray sweatpants covering his strong legs, “didn’t know they’d affect you so much, would’ve worn them way sooner if i knew you’d pounce on me like the little slut you are.” he guides your hand to the crotch of his pants, allowing you to squeeze his length through the fabric of his sweats. more wetness gushes out of you at the feeling of the weight of his member, knowing all the damage he can do to you with it. “my little slut, isn’t that right?” you nod diligently, rubbing up and down on his length, trying to rile him up.

jake halts your actions, “naughty whore, can’t even be patient,” he scolds, leading your hand to dip under his waistband. you gasp at the feeling of him not wearing any boxers, allowing you to hold him in your hand, warmth spreading through your body as you jack him off lazily.

jake pulls his sweats down just below the base of his dick and it springs free, hard and ready for you. “fuck–” you groan, watching closely as your hand continues its diligent motions. “love your cock, sir.”

“i know you do, baby,” jake pets your hair gently, “such a good little cock slut, always ready to take me,” he dips his other hand beneath the waistband of your sweats, pushing his hands through your folds. “already this wet and i’ve barely even touched you.”

“just for you,” you groan as he dips one finger inside, pumping roughly, searching for that spongy spot inside of you. jake slips another finger inside, his movements quickening as he listens for the gorgeous noises he loves to hear spill from your lips.

“pull these down,” jake commands and you use your free hand to tug your pants and panties down and off your legs. jake can feel himself salivating at the sight of your gorgeous pussy, slipping a third finger inside next to the other two. he buries them knuckle deep before pulling out, repeating his actions over and over as he watches your facial expressions convey the pleasure he’s bringing you. “fuck, look at you, weak for me and i’m only using my fingers,” the commanding tone in his voice makes you shiver, eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze, dark and swimming with lust. “fuck, jake–” you groan as you feel his fingers begin to reach deeper, your pussy nearly swallowing his hand to the knuckles each time.

“look at how i’ve stretched this tiny pussy out,” jake chuckles, his voice rumbling with need as he glances down at his cock where you’ve halted your handjob, back arching off the bed. he removes his fingers promptly, causing you to whine loudly.

“sir, please–” you plead, eyes brimming with tears, “was so close! i’ll be a good girl!”

jake watches you with amusement, the sight of you whimpering beneath him forcing his brain into overdrive, “good girls do as they’re told. keep jacking me off and if you stop again i won’t let you cum.” you nod at his words, resuming your actions, groaning as you pay extra attention to his leaky red tip, squeezing harder every time you reach the top.

jake dips three fingers back inside you, watching as you squeak out and start panting as he hits a particular spongy spot inside of you. jackpot.

he assaults this spot, other hand snaking down to rub mercilessly at your clit. jake groans as your grip on him becomes tighter as you near your high, “gonna make a mess on my fingers like the good girl you are?”

you nod quickly, mouth hanging slack with your tongue lolling out as you squeak at every jab against your g-spot. “f– f– u– uck–” you scream out between thrusts, your pace on his dick speeding up as you approach the edge. 

with one particularly tight yank of his dick and a swipe over his tip, jake cums hard, liquid spurting out onto your chest and some on your gaping hole. he stills his actions for a moment before coating fingers on both of his hands with his seed. you feel his cum inside you, tears flowing at the onslaught of varying sensations on you at once. his other hand returns to your clit, his lips coming to suck on it as he rubs roughly, while still fucking you with his long, slender fingers.

“ahh!–” you scream out, back arching off the bed as the coil inside you threatens to snap, “fuck! jake–” a slap against your clit followed by a harsh suck of the hardened bud causes you to tumble past your precipice, all of your limbs stilling as jake never halts his actions. he pulls away from your clit to look down. the sight of you cumming, liquid spilling everywhere makes his cock jump, “fuuuuuck, baby,” he continues ramming his fingers inside of you with expert precision, “such a messy girl.”

his words bring a burning sensation to your cheeks, trying to scramble away from jake as he overstimulates you heavily, never ceasing his actions, “jake, please–”

“you’ve got one more in you, baby,” jake tells you, “let jake help you.”

jake removes his fingers before sliding home, his thick cock reaching impossibly deep inside you instantly, sucking him in with familiarity and a still present stretch from the sheer size of him. “fuck, your pussy is heaven sent, angel,” jake’s need overtakes him, jackhammering inside of you harshly, your body jerking with each thrust inside of your already abused hole. he snakes a hand around, holding your asscheeks apart with both hands, lightly tracing a finger around the rim of your asshole. “ahh!–” you gasp at the intrusion, “jake!–”

“this belongs to me, too,” jake tells you, slowly pushing the pad of his finger past your puckered ring, “jake!” you scream, eyes rolling back at the feeling of being double stuffed, even with just a bit of his finger breaching your ass.

“i knew you’d be a slut for anal,” jake whispers as his pounding continues, finger slowly pushing further in through your backdoor, “i’ll hit it from the back next time, how about that, my dirty girl?”

you shake your head, your body’s reaction saying the opposite as jake starts to pump his finger in and out of your tight hole in rhythm with the way his cock is pounding your pussy. “moremoremore!”

“yeah baby? more?” jake shoves his finger further, picking up speed in both holes, nearly cumming seeing the bruise already forming on your plush breast from the searing bite he gave it earlier, the imprint of his teeth visible even from a distance. jake uses his free hand to squeeze your throat tightly, “greedy little cock slut always needs more, can’t just take what she’s given.”

your vision starts to go white from the pressure on your windpipe combined with jake’s dick hitting your spongy spot and his finger pumping knuckle deep into your ass, knowing he’s the only one who’s ever been there. your eyes roll back into your head as you cum, the experience feeling different from any other time you’ve orgasmed.

“you trying to make me cum right now? squirting on me like that, baby?” more liquid continues to gush out of your hole, the wetness on jake’s dick making him groan loudly. he pulls his finger from your ass when the liquid is done streaming from your weeping cunt, smacking your ass harshly and groping at your cheek. “next time, i’m fucking this ass.” he gives you another rough smack, this time on the opposite side, before pulling out of you. “right now? i’m gonna fuck these tits.” jake crawls up your body sliding his dick between your plush mounds of flesh, squeezing them tight around his length. “look at you, letting me use this fucking perfect body however i need,” jake groans, pinching your nipple with one of his hands as he pumps in and out, eyes trained on the way your tits nearly completely cover his length. he chases his high, knowing you’re not anticipating his next actions, your eyes fighting to stay open as he uses you as he pleases.

“fuck, you’re perfect,” jake whispers, teetering on the edge of cumming before he slides away from your tits, shoving his length back into your gaping pussy. a few pumps is all it takes before he’s spilling inside of you, cum hitting your walls in long spurts and filling your pussy, dripping out of you and landing on the sheets beneath you. jake fucks you through his orgasm, pushing two fingers into your mouth before rubbing your abused clit with precision.

“no!– no more, jake!–” you try to push him away, overstimulation tingling around your body after two mind blowing orgasms have already rendered you utterly exhausted.

“your body’s telling me otherwise,” jake smirks, feeling your pussy tighten around him with every pump of his cock and flick of your hardened nub, “gonna give you one more, angel. you can do it.”

you argue against him, the little whimpers leaving your mouth betraying your actions. you scream loudly as the wave of pleasure washes over you, and still jake fucks you through it, his movements never ceasing. you still as it wrecks through you, orgasm finally subsiding as jake pulls out of you slowly, hands running up the sides of your body gently, holding you like you’ll break if he presses too hard. he traces the curves of your body with admiration, wondering how he got so fucking lucky to have you beneath him.

“look at my pretty girl.” he smiles as he watches you return to the land of the living, your mind spinning after three orgasms. jake leans over your body, placing gentle kisses all over your face and neck, littering your body with affection. “did so good for me, angel. such a good girl.” you smile as his words register in your ears, the ringing in them finally leaving as your body returns to its natural state of relaxation.

“no more, please,” you beg.

jake nods, offering you a smile, one that neither of you realize has hidden feelings brewing behind it. “no more, promise. my baby did so good.” he stands on the side of the bed, picking you up and leading you to the bathroom. jake sits you on the counter and starts running water, testing the temperature for you before corking the tub and watching it fill with perfectly hot water.

“mmm– jakey,” you mumble.

he turns to you, standing between your legs, rubbing circles on your kneecaps as he watches your drooping eyes try to focus on his face. “still with me, angel?” you nod lightly as he places a kiss on your forehead. “good, gonna get you all cleaned up and then we’ll get some sleep, okay?” you nod again.

jake sits there for a moment, memorizing the lines of your face and the feeling of your soft skin beneath his fingertips. he turns and stops the water from running. “come here, beautiful,” jake lifts you up again and places you into the tub. you sit there, mind still fuzzy, watching the ceiling lights reflect against the surface of the water. jake tugs his shirt off before sliding in behind you, letting your back rest against his chest.

jake grabs your body wash, lathering it between his hands before he gently spreads the bubbles across your body, diligently scrubbing your tired body clean.

“thank you,” you mumble, leaning the crown of your head back against his chest to look up at him, “of course, angel.” he kisses your forehead and you smile at the action, feeling him rinsing the soap from your skin before your eyes flutter shut for a moment.

the sight of you falling asleep against jake gives him a warm feeling in his stomach.

he washes up quickly, trying to not disturb your sleeping form. jake uncorks the bath and stands, reaching for the nearby towel before helping you to your feet. he dries himself quickly after realizing there’s only one towel, and then he’s wrapping you in it and guiding you to step out of the tub, your eyes still conveying how tired you are. jake tugs on his sweats before stepping back into your bedroom, digging through your drawers for clean clothes. he finds a suitable sleep set and a clean pair of panties before returning to your exhausted form standing still in the bathroom, leaning against the countertop.

“alright pretty,” he guides your legs to step into your panties, pulling them up your legs slowly before following them with a pair of shorts, “did so good for me, baby.” he reassures your tired mind, placing a gentle kiss on your hip after pulling the shorts up to rest on your waist.

jake finishes drying off your top half before tugging the shirt he picked out over your frame, helping you get your arms into the holes. once you’re fully dressed, he watches you with an unknown emotion stirring deep inside his body. “nap time,” he offers you a smile before leading you back to your bed, making note to wash your cum covered sheets later once the two of you wake up again. he lays you down on top of your comforter to keep a barrier between the stained sheets and your freshly washed body, crossing the room to grab a throw blanket and placing it on top of you. jake sneaks in behind you, wrapping his arms around your center and resting his head on your shoulder, breathing in your fresh scent, a smell that brings a sense of peace to his otherwise busy mind.

“get some sleep,” jake kisses your cheek then your shoulder before returning his head to the place it feels most comfortable.

“goodnight, angel.”

you slide through the front door of the frat house the next day, watching as yet another party unfolds before your eyes. you glance around, looking for heeseung or jay, or even sunghoon, knowing jake would reveal himself later in the evening when he got tired of watching you walk around in the tiniest skirt known to man, one you wore purposely just to rile him up.

you pass by a few aquaintances as you continue your search, greeting them kindly, stopping for small talk. the hallways reveal none of the men you’re looking for as you glance down the endless expanse of random doors that line the walls. you stand at the bottom of the stairs, about to head up before you see two people nearly fucking on the top of the steps, causing you to turn around and head back towards the living room.

you walk out into the backyard, finding sunghoon talking with someone near the side of the house, beginning to approach them before you stop. their hushed voices reach your ears as a distinct accent hits you.

“there’s no way you don’t like her, man, i’ve seen the way you look at her.”

“sunghoon,” jake warns, “i don’t like y/n, bro. she means nothing to me, seriously. drop it.”

you feel your heart shatter beneath your ribcage, pieces scattering out and stabbing themselves into your organs as you step back into the house, bumping into someone who catches you before you can tumble to the ground.

“y/n, you okay?” heeseung asks as he watches you, searching your face.

“i– i’m fine heeseung,” you try to wrestle from his hold, “please let me go,” you whimper, tears sliding down your cheeks pathetically, trying to hide your embarrassed face from the tall man.

heeseung drags you into the kitchen, thankfully empty of jay’s usual presence, and he lifts you to sit you down on the counter, the cold surface against your bare legs grounding you the slightest bit. “what’s wrong? do i need to call wonyoung?”

you shake your head, burying your face in your hands, sobs racking your entire body. “i’m so stupid,” you explain between tears, “i shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, i really didn’t mean to, but i heard jake talking about me with sunghoon and i–” you whimper audibly, wiping your eyes with your forearm as you look up at heeseung, who is watching you closely. “i like him so much, heeseung, i have for so long, and he said i didn’t even mean anything to him, and now i feel so fucking embarrassed!” you ramble, your mind feeling fuzzy as you try to fight the tears continuing to tumble down your cheeks, “ever since jay’s birthday party he’s been treating me different, and sometimes i guess i had tricked myself into thinking he might like me back… he– he says the sweetest things whenever we have sex, and treats me so gentle after and calls me all these nicknames… i guess he just says that shit to every girl he manages to get in his bed,” your crying has slowed, anger beginning to mix with sadness as your emotions shift slightly.

“i can’t believe i actually went along with his dumb idea,” you scold yourself, “i’m seriously so stupid.”

you can’t believe you wanted so desperately for jake to return your feelings that you let him use you, believing that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way you did. and he shoved your hope right back in your face just to taunt you with it.

god, this is useless.

you’re useless, your brain reminds you.

maybe jake had a point in using you for his own pleasure. he has never once shown you any romantic interest before you agreed to a change in your relationship dynamic, so why would anything change suddenly at the drop of a hat?

why would you think you’d ever be enough for him?

you shake your head, eyes brimming with more tears at the memory of allowing him to use you without question, wondering if you even meant anything at all to jake, sexually or otherwise. how had your crush gotten so bad that you’d let a man devour you and rip you apart just to leave you to pick up the pieces yourself? the sim jaeyun you found yourself crushing on was leagues different than the man you just overheard, and you felt your stomach sink at the thought of the boy you once knew becoming barely recognizable.

“y/n,” heeseung’s voice brings you out of the fog, “y/n, it’s okay, you’re not stupid.” he wraps you in a tight hug, the tears returning as you soak the shoulder of his shirt. “jake’s stupid if he doesn’t realize what a catch you are, pretty.” he rubs your back gently.

“everything okay in here?”

“not now,” heeseung attempts to shoo jake away, to which the australian boy stands still, watching with confusion. “jake, seriously, go away.”

heeseung stumbles as jake shoves him lightly, “what the fuck did you do, man!��

“what you should be asking is what the fuck did you do, jake,” heeseung glares at him, watching his best friend nearly fuck up everything he doesn’t know he’s been longing for this whole time.

jake lets heeseung’s words slip past him, turning to you, eyes lined with concern, “you okay?”

you watch jake, tears still slowly sliding down your red cheeks, shaking your head, “leave me alone, sim.” the venom in your tone tears at his heart, watery gaze watching him with hatred brewing in his heart, “don’t pretend like you care about me.”

“i–”

“jake, leave before something worse happens,” heeseung advises him, holding back the words he actually wants to say to his helplessly blind and stupid best friend. jake obeys, walking slowly out of the kitchen with one last glance at you, the sight of you crying into heeseung’s hold nearly breaking him in two.

oh fuck.

the tidal wave of emotions hits jake all at once, feelings he’s unknowingly denied since you first met all those years ago beginning to settle into his gaze, watching you with hurt at the way you pushed him away with your words.

heeseung pulls jay into the kitchen as he’s walking by, instructing him to take care of you. heeseung approaches jake, who is standing right outside the kitchen and tugs him further into the house, away from you and your sad eyes. “jake, what the fuck dude!”

“i didn’t do anything!” he fights back.

“why the hell would you say that shit about her to hoon!”

realization dawns on him, bringing jake to rub a tired hand against his face, “god, she heard me, didn’t she?” jake asks sheepishly, to which heeseung hits him in the shoulder, saying “yes, you idiot!”

“fuck…” jake sighs deeply, looking up at heeseung, “i really fucked up, didn’t i?”

“yes, dummy!”

jake pinches the bridge of his nose, biting his lower lip out of frustration, “if i was her i’d hate me right now.”

“did you actually mean all that shit you said?”

“i– i didn’t really think much about what we were doing, but hoon was grilling me and saying all this shit like he always does and i just wanted him to shut the hell up, he was overwhelming me with all his stupid questions,” jake shakes his head, frustration brewing in his stomach.

“you like her, don’t you?” jake doesn’t meet heeseung’s eyes, only nodding and sighing deeply, “i didn’t think i did, but seeing her push me away like that made me so sad, dude. i don’t want her to hate me…”

“sometimes you’re stupid, jake,” heeseung places his hands on his shoulders, “just go, man. sleep it off and give her some space. you broke her damn heart, dude.”

you wake up in an unfamiliar bed, glancing around before realizing you’re still in the frat house. “good morning, sunshine,” sunghoon smiles at you as he exits the bathroom, “about time you woke up.”

“sunghoon… what the hell happened last night?” your mind is running a mile a minute, praying you didn’t sleep with jake’s best friend.

“there was no funny business, don’t worry your pretty little head about that,” he reassures you, “heeseung brought you here after you nearly cried yourself into a coma in the kitchen.”

you rub at your eyes, sighing loudly as the night’s events wash over you suddenly. “jake’s not here, is he?”

sunghoon shakes his head, “no, he’s not here, so don’t freak out.”

you sigh loudly, “are jay and heeseung here?” sunghoon nods in response, “yeah, jay’s probably cooking something up for you right now.”

“morning, sleeping beauty,” jay greets you as you stumble into the kitchen, the clothes against your skin meant for a much larger frame as you nearly trip over the extra fabric hanging off the bottom of your sweatpants, the legs too long for your shorter body. these must be heeseung’s…

“hi,” you return the greeting, sliding up to sit at a barstool at the island. “is… are you guys okay?”

“us?” jay questions, glancing back at you from his spot at the stove where he’s frying two eggs for you, “i should be asking how you are, y/n.”

“i– i don’t know, honestly. my head really hurts.” jay nods his head towards the end of the island, “heeseung left some ibuprofen out for you.”

you take it, mentally noting to thank him later. “how are you feeling about… everything you heard?” jay questions, trying to choose his words carefully.

“i– he really hurt me, jay.” jay can hear the sniffle in your voice, mentally cursing out his best friend for being so damn blind to his own feelings this whole time. “i don’t… i don’t think i’m gonna go to class today. i can’t face him right now.” your voice is small, your spirit broken from what you overheard last night, knowing all of this, all of you, everything the two of you experienced together and made each other feel, truly meant nothing to him.

“eat up,” jay presents your plate to you. “how’d you know how i like my eggs?”

jay shrugs, grinning, “lucky guess,” he lies easily, knowing now wouldn’t be the right time to tell you that jake gave all six of his close friends a rundown on your favorite and most hated foods after getting plastered one night a few weeks ago.

heeseung ends up driving you back to your apartment, despite protests that it’s close enough to walk. he drops you off, making you promise to eat lunch at the least.

you spend the day lying in bed, alternating between crying until you can feel your chest heaving and a dryness in your eyes from having already cried all the liquid out of your body, to taking intermittent naps, snuggling under your blanket, grasping it tightly for any semblance of stability.

of all the people he chose to hurt, it had to be you. you, the person who has been with him through many stages of life, competing closely with him and hiding your feelings from the first day that you met. the doe eyed boy you met all those years ago felt like a distant memory from the man who decided to control your life and mind, using you for his own gain and tossing you aside when he felt it was fitting.

oh the things you’d do to forget you ever met sim jaeyun.

the next day you drag yourself out of bed, attempting to at least look presentable before stumbling into class, walking to the back and sitting next to riki, not daring to even glance in jake’s direction. riki greets you with a slight nod of his head and you offer him a small smile, the most genuine one you can muster up, for him not forcing you to speak. you know your voice will betray you, and the minute you start speaking you’ll cry instantly.

jake can’t stop looking back at you, his heart breaking every time he sees the frown etched into your features, brows tugged down and lips curling into the opposite of what he wants to see. he tries to catch your gaze, but you avoid him completely, “can he stop looking back here,” you mumble, pulling a small chuckle from riki’s lips. “don’t pay him any mind, y/n.”

the class goes by agonizingly slow, each pointed glance in your direction from jake tearing the pieces of your heart further apart. you ignore him time after time until the professor dismisses you, and you turn to riki with pleading eyes. “can i… can i walk out with you?”

“of course,” riki’s kindness makes your gloomy day a little bit brighter as he gathers his things and leads you out of the classroom, using the door furthest from jake. jake watches you leave, sighing deeply, hoping you won’t avoid him forever.

you walk into your next class with jake a minute late, glancing around to see all the seats taken besides your usual one beside the man you’d like to see the least right now. you set your things down gently and take your seat, watching the professor as they drone on about the lesson. you will your brain to focus on the lecture, but the presence beside you is causing a thumping in your skull and a buzz in your bones. jake keeps stealing glances at your profile, watching and holding himself back from reaching out to touch you gently, to calm the leg that you’re shaking beneath your desk.

you spend the period zoning out, not even caring when the teacher hands out the tests from last week, a high score sitting atop your worksheet. jake watches as you pick the paper up, seeing that he’s lost to you again. the realization doesn’t bring him anger or a competitive drive today, no, it brings him an immense feeling of being lost. jake thinks he’s lost apart of himself when you started ignoring him, and he knows it’s his own fault, vowing to heeseung that he’d fix what he broke between the two of you

you leave the classroom as quickly as humanly possible, hoping to escape without jake catching you. “y/n, please, can we talk?” he questions after catching your wrist in his grasp in the hallway.

you shake your head, watching him with a teary gaze, unable to even squeak out all the things you want to say to him. you want to curse him for ever making you fall for him completely. you urge to reach out and pound your fists against his chest, knowing he’s not hurting the way you are. you want to cry in front of him, making him watch to see how he’s broken you down to the lowest version of yourself. but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of any of these reactions, knowing he’d love to see you suffering because of him, knowing he played you just the exact way he planned to.

you yank your hand away from his grip, the skin burning after you rip it from his grasp. you leave as fast as your exhausted, beat down body can carry you, opting to skip the rest of the day’s obligations.

“y/n, here,” wonyoung perches herself on the side of your bed, “i brought you some ramen, heeseung dropped it off for you, said it’s his favorite brand.” heeseung had omitted the fact that this brand is actually jake’s favorite and not his, the sneaky bastard. she smiles as she presents the bowl to you, with some fresh toppings she obviously adding sitting atop the broth and noodle mixture.

“thanks, wony,” you take a bite, groaning at the taste, “this is so good.”

“good,” she watches you eat with worried eyes, “how are you feeling?”

you swallow your bite before looking up at her, “a little better, i guess.”

wonyoung offers you a weak smile, knowing it’s killing her inside to see you going through this situation with jake. “are you going to your next class?” she questions, hoping you’ll say yes, knowing your grades will start to be affected if you keep skipping the way you have the past few days. she also knows all too well that no man is worth jeopardizing your future over, no matter how long you’ve liked him.

you nod, slurping up the bowl’s contents with speed, “yeah, my professor emailed and asked if i was okay, and i don’t want to worry her any further.”

wonyoung nods in approval at your response, “good. just ignore him the whole time, okay?” to which you nod, gulping down the rest of your broth.

you approach your next class feeling a bit better after eating the meal wonyoung so generously made for you, even if ramen is quick and easy to make, she really didn’t have to care for you the way she did time and time again.

you feel a tug on your arm as someone tugs you in the opposite direction of the place you were heading to, pulling the both of you inside an empty classroom and blocking the exit.

you look up to see jake watching you, his eyes less bright than they usually appear to be, the spark you see whenever he’s hellbent on beating you seemingly absent from his gaze.

“please don’t,” you beg him, not wanting to hear him gloat or whatever the hell he’s planning to do here.

“y/n, please,” jake begs, eyes searching your face for some kind of reassurance that you wouldn’t leave, “please, i need to apologize.”

“you don’t have anything to apologize for,” you lie straight through your teeth, “so can i please just leave?”

jake’s pleading voice is slowly breaking down your resolve, “please, can i at least explain?” when you don’t answer, he takes the opportunity to start laying his feelings out on the table.

“whatever you heard me say, i know it sounded horrible, but i didn’t mean it.”

“oh, so you didn’t mean that i meant nothing to you?” he winces at the words that you throw back in his face, knowing that was one of the worst things he could’ve said.

“no, i didn’t mean it,” jake tells you, gaze piercing yours, “i– i was stupid, y/n, you have to believe me. i only said that to get sunghoon to back off, of course i care about you. i’ve spent how many years by your side? and you think i would actually hate you?”

the words ring in your ears, making your head hurt as you continue to listen to him. “i’m so sorry, y/n, i really am. sunghoon wouldn’t leave me alone and i just wanted him to shut up for once.” jake rubs his hands over his face, breathing a deep sigh against his palms before shoving them back into his jacket pockets, gaze meeting yours again. “when we started messing around… i didn’t know how i felt… i thought it was just fun. but every time i saw you i felt weird, and i didn’t know what it meant, i figured it was normal because we’ve been rivals for so long and i’ve always felt this drive to be better than you. but it started feeling different… i started to just want to be around you all the time, whether we were fucking or not, and i kept denying it to everyone who would ask me.”

jake’s mind flashes back to the countless times sunghoon has harassed him, asking when he’s going to confess to you. “i don’t know when i realized it, but i like you, y/n. i guess i have this whole time, and i’m so sorry i made you think that i didn’t.” he resists the urge to reach out and hold your hand in his, knowing the physical touch would likely only bring him comfort, versus the intent being to ground you as well. “i… i really fucked up, i shouldn’t have asked you to be in a friends with benefits relationship, i should’ve known that’s not what you wanted. i’m sorry if you ever felt like i was using you, i… i’m sorry i didn’t realize my feelings sooner.”

jake’s speech knocks the wind out of you as you stare at him blankly, tears brewing in your eyes, “jake, i–” you mumble, mind swimming at his admission. “thank you for apologizing, i– i think i need some time, if that’s okay.” he nods quickly in response, the action warming you up inside.

“take all the time you need. what i just said is a lot, and it’s okay if you don’t forgive me. i just needed to tell you before i lost you forever.”

“i– i’ll talk to you later okay?” jake nods, moving out of the way of the door, watching you walk away. anxiety brews in his gut as he hopes with his entire being that you’ll forgive him, even though deep down he wonders if he even deserves an ounce of forgiveness.

jake concludes that he doesn’t deserve your forgiveness, that he’s royally fucked up and he’s determined to fix what he’s broken between the two of you.

you let your emotions brew for a few days, jake choosing to give you space during class and every other time you find yourself near him. relief washes over you every time you see him and he doesn’t rush to your side, knowing the simple action would just further complicate the already confusing thoughts in your mind.

you’re still obviously hurt by what he said, jake’s words creating a hole in your heart feeling like you wasted so much time loving someone and hoping to be loved back, even agreeing to a relationship you knew you couldn’t handle without your emotions getting in the way somehow.

the sincerity of his apology and the fear in his eyes when he explained everything to you still remains in your mind, all the positive memories you have with jake sitting in the forefront of your consciousness. you are itching to forgive him, but the fear of him breaking your heart again rings through your mind with every passing thought.

you’ve made a decision in your head, praying it’s the right one, not wanting to get burned again.

“can i talk to you?”

jake nods his head, bidding his friend goodbye as he follows you through campus. you stop at a bench near the fountain by the engineering building, watching as the water spouts up in a gorgeous display, zoning out for a minute. jake waits patiently for you to speak as he takes a seat next to you.

“jake,” you turn to look at him, “i… i accept your apology.” jake’s eyes light up at your admission, “i know feelings are complicated, mine certainly are right now, i just– did you know the whole time how much i liked you?”

jake shakes his head, “no, y/n, i wouldn’t put you through that on purpose, i promise.”

you nod in response, watching your hands that are clasped together in your lap for a moment before looking back up at him. “i– do you really like me? you promise you’re not lying?”

jake nods, reaching out to take your hand in his, giving it a small squeeze, “no lies, i promise.”

“what… where do we go from here?”

jake thinks for a moment, not prepared for the question, before sucking in a breath and asking, “how about i take you out on a real date?”

he catches you off guard with his question, “yeah?” he nods, “yeah, pretty. i meant everything i said, i don’t want you to slip away when you mean so much to me… it just took me an embarrassingly long time to realize how absolutely infatuated with you i am.”

his last sentence makes you embarrassed and you attempt to hide your burning cheeks, knowing your ears are betraying you with the tips turning red. “okay, sim, you can take me on a date.” jake’s eyes sparkle at your agreement, relief crashing over his body in an overwhelming display. you smile at the way his eyes shine as he watches you, feeling contentment settle into your heart, as if he’s putting the broken pieces back together slowly, fixing what he accidentally broke inside you.

“jake, where are you taking me?” you question, brow quirked as the man you’ve wanted for so long stands before you, leaning against his sleek red car. the sight of him waiting so casually, eyes trained off at something in the distance, makes your heart flutter.

“hi, beautiful,” jake greets you, grabbing your hand and raising it above your head, guiding you to do a spin for him as he appreciates your outfit. “you look gorgeous, angel.”

“you don’t look so bad yourself, handsome.” you smile at jake as he leads you to the passenger side, opening the door for you and helping you inside. he steps over and takes his seat on the driver’s side, the engine revving to life with the press of a button. “where are we heading?"

jake uses his left hand to steer, the right resting on the gear shift as he takes the two of you off campus, being extra careful as his car now has precious cargo inside. “it’s a surprise,” the midday sun beams down on the two of you as he turns into a neighborhood. you watch his face, appreciating every feature that you’ve admired for years, heart swelling at the thought of the man in front of you reciprocating your feelings.

jake shifts the car into park after a short drive and you look around, taking in the surrounding area. a playground sits in front of you, a small forest sitting a ways behind it, tall trees towering over everything nearby. the sun still cascades through the leaves as jake opens your door, shutting it behind you as you step onto the asphalt of the parking lot surrounding you. he opens his small trunk, pulling a basket out and a small pink and white checkered blanket. you feel a buzz beneath your skin as your eyes sparkle, realizing jake has packed the two of you a picnic lunch for your first date.

jake leads you over to a small patch of grass behind the playground set, the spot having the greenest grass. you wonder if he picked this spot special for the two of you, the possibility of it making your heart soar. he lays the blanket down, flattening it out so no wrinkles are in sight before placing the basket on top and helping you sit down.

“don’t go thinking i’m some master chef now, okay? i had jay help me…” jake says, wanting to hide his face in embarrassment as he pokes fun at himself. you watch as he pulls a variety of dishes out, “but i made some stuff by myself, too!”

this feels strange, but seeing the usually confident and argumentative man you have fought against academically for all these years seemingly doubting himself? it is definitely a different sensation than the ones you’re used to. but the sight made your insides feel fuzzy, butterflies sprouting in your tummy, watching in real time as you feel yourself falling for him even more. “jake, this is lovely,” you place a hand on his arm, his movements halting in response as you reassure him, giving him a light squeeze. “you’re lovely. i’m flattered you did all of this for me.”

“i wanted you to see that i’m serious about this, about us.”

jake takes the plates and bowls out, handing you one, before setting the silverware down in the middle of the blanket. “here, we made some of my favorites and some foods i remember you mentioning over the years… i hope you still like them,” you can hear how nervous he is, “jake, seriously, stop freaking out. it’s just me,” you tell him as he opens one of the glass dishes revealing a bowl of homemade kimchi stew, a dish you know jake has loved for a long time.

“that doesn’t help me,” jake laughs a little at his own embarrassment and nerves, “that’s the whole reason why i’m so nervous… you’re you, and this is my one chance to show you how much i care about you.”

you watch as he opens the next dish, a box of chocolate covered strawberries, “jake,” you glance up, meeting his eyes as you nearly cry at the worried look in them, “i don’t remember the last time i even had these… thank you.”

“i remember you mentioned them sometime in sophomore year,” jake replies sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck nervously. “holy shit, that makes me sound like such a creep.”

you shake your head, watching jake, “stop it, jake, seriously. i think it’s adorable that you remembered that from so long ago. it’s not weird or creepy!”

jake sees the sincerity in your gaze, letting out a breath of relief, “i… i really like you, seriously, i don’t want to mess up my one chance.”

you grab the sides of jake’s face and gently pull him towards you, capturing his lips in your own, hoping to wash away some of his worries with the action. you feel lighter as you kiss him, his plush, delicate lips feeling like heaven against your own. you missed kissing him, and kissing him now feels so… different. refreshingly so, knowing that the man you’re holding in your arms reciprocates your own feelings that you’ve pushed down and hid from the world for so long.

you pull away after a moment, resting your head against his, “you haven’t messed anything up, jake, okay?”

jake stares into your eyes, his emotions bubbling and growing beneath the surface, watching as he falls more in love with you the longer he watches your gorgeous irises stare back at him, ones that he wouldn’t mind getting lost in. “okay, y/n.” you seal your promise with another kiss, feeling him smile against your lips this time, knowing the man you’re sitting across from is the same one you fell for all those years ago. caring, kind, extremely driven, gorgeous, and above all, captivating in every way, his drive and need to succeed always pushing yourself to be the best version of yourself. and you know his drive to be the best has extended here, going above and beyond to impress you with a sentimental date, the concept of which makes you feel mushy inside.

time passes quickly, conversation and good food flowing between the two of you, giggles and stories being shared, feeling yourself fall further for him the longer you spent by his side. when the sky starts to darken with clouds and the threat of rain, you and jake pack quickly, rushing to the car when raindrops start to fall on your heads. jake drives you both back to campus, the ambience of the water falling on the hood of the car along with the low lull of the radio causing you to fall asleep. jake pulls into his usual parking spot outside his apartment building, picking you up in his arms and setting the picnic basket on your stomach, carrying you to his home, a small studio apartment on the second floor. after somehow unlocking the door without dropping you or waking you up, he sets the picnic basket on the counter before placing you in his bed, tucking you in under his freshly washed blanket. jake busies himself with putting leftovers away as you sleep before coming to join you, sneaking under the covers and spooning you.

jake places a small kiss against the back of your head, watching as your stomach rises and falls peacefully with each quiet breath you take. “sleep well, angel.”

“i haven’t told the guys yet,” jake’s statement shocks you as the two of you walk into the frat hand in hand, a bustling party happening around you. you couldn’t believe after three successful dates and jake asking you to be his girlfriend, that he has kept that from his friends for all that time. “i wanted to tell them together, so they couldn’t bully me.” he jokes, leading you through the house, looking for his three best friends.

you find the three of them standing at the end of a hallway, near the room where you and jake first hooked up. you blush at the sight, glancing up at your boyfriend who gives you a quick wink. “what’s happening in your pretty little head, angel?”

“nothing,” you smack his arm, attempting to push him forwards to meet his friends, “let’s go talk to them before you or i do something crazy.”

“crazy doesn’t necessarily mean bad, though,” jake teases you before relenting, walking towards his friends who all smile at the sight of the two of you.

“i told you so,” heeseung grins the widest of all before jay and sunghoon’s faces drop suddenly, “pay up, jayhoon.”

“stop fucking calling us that,” sunghoon shoves his friend’s shoulder before fishing a $50 bill out of his wallet, jay doing the same but with a $100. “jay you should just be my sugar daddy at this point,” heeseung smirks as he tucks the bills into the inside pocket of his jacket.

sunghoon scoffs at heeseung’s words, shoving his wallet back into his pocket. “heejay will never be a thing, so keep dreaming.” jay teases before looking at you and jake again, watching as you lean your head against his arm as you continue to hold his hand. “glad you came to your senses, jakey boy… i told you it’d work out, didn’t i, y/n?”

“you didn’t say anything remotely close to those words, jay,” you argue, to which he shrugs, “well, i was going to but then you started hitting me.”

“you were playing twenty questions with me while i was in a crisis!”

“we’re actually… i asked y/n to be my girlfriend last week,” jake scratches the back of his head, “so expect to see her around a lot more.”

“ha!” sunghoon smacks heeseung’s shoulder, “pay up!” he sticks his hands out to the other two men, who promptly give him $20 each.

you watch as the money is exchanged, “how much betting on us did you guys do?”

heeseung smirks at the two of you, “a lot. it’s been happening for longer than either of you will ever know.”

“nobody expected jake to actually man up and ask you to be his girlfriend officially this soon except hoon,” jake smacks heeseung and jay at this admission as you realize the trio has known of your semi secret dating the entire time, “what the hell, guys!”

“doesn’t matter, because it all worked out, didn’t it, lovebirds?” heeseung watches you two with a pleased look on his face, “and i knew it would happen, it just took a little while for jake to get his head out of his ass.”

“be nice,” you scold heeseung, “he didn’t know, don’t be mean, heeseung.”

heeseung relents, raising his hands in a defensive manner, “fine, fine.”

the five of you fall into a comfortable conversation, with jay cracking jokes and sunghoon laughing at all of them, heeseung watching them both with amusement in his gaze.

“can we go home? i’m kinda tired…” you ask jake after a while of conversing and enjoying yourself with the four men, staring up at him with two wide eyes that he realizes he’s never been able to say no to, and today will not be the day that he starts. little does he know the ulterior motive brewing in your stomach, wetness growing between your legs since you passed by the room where the two of you first slept together. “sure, pretty. let’s go.” the two of you bid your goodbyes to the trio, watching as they bicker about their betting habits as you head out.

the two of you drive back to jake’s apartment, which will soon be yours since your lease with wonyoung is coming up, and your soon to be former roommate and still current best friend has decided to take a semester abroad, getting into her dream program that she’s been talking about since the summer.

“are you really tired, baby?” a mischievous smile overtakes your features as you shake your head, leading jake to the bed and pushing him to sit on the edge of it. “oh, i see…” jake smiles, hands covering the expanse of your hips as you straddle to sit on his lap.

“want you to make love to me, jakey,” you plead, grinding your core down onto him.

“god, angel–” jake groans at the feeling of you pressing yourself against him, “fuck, you drive me crazy,” he pushes you down further onto his clothed member as you continue your motions, needing to feel more friction. “if i weren’t so hard right now i’d make you ride my thigh forever.”

you groan at his admission, movements faltering and he takes your moment of distraction to pick you up, placing you against the pillows. he pulls back for a moment, tugging his shirt over his head and you gawk at the sight of his toned stomach, only ever seeing it in glimpses during your previous escapades.

“mmm, i could just eat you up,” you tell him, running your fingernails up and down gently along his abs, “can’t believe you’ve hidden this under your shirts all this time…”

“you were itching to get a peek all these years, weren’t you, baby?” jake teases as he takes your shirt off next, tugging your bra off after and pinching a nipple between his fingers. you groan, back arching up as he sucks on the opposite one harshly. “j– jake–” you groan, hands threading into his hair and pulling lightly. he groans against your skin, loving the feeling of the pain rushing through his scalp. “oooh, you like that, pretty boy?” jake moans as you pull his mouth away from your nipple, eyes fluttering shut at the sting traveling through his scalp as you tug at his locks again.

“stop,” jake begs, “another time, baby, let me take care of you tonight.” he sighs in relief as you release your hold on his hair. “alright, sim, you’re free to go this time… but i’ll be saving that for later, baby boy.”

“god, you’re such a menace,” jake groans as his mind returns from the subspace he was slowly slipping into, sliding down the bed until he’s eye level with your core, seeing the wetness nearly escaping from your thin panties. he tugs your skirt off unceremoniously, “been wanting to eat you since the first night i had you, pretty,” jake bites at your panties and yanks them down with his teeth, the sight making you whimper at the pure sex appeal oozing from the man beneath you. jake leans in and dips his tongue between your folds. “fuck, knew you’d taste so sweet, angel.”

jake eats you out like a man starved, slobbering into your folds, pushing his tongue into your pussy, flicking his tongue inside of you. you moan loudly, hands gripping the sheets on the bed, a nearly pornographic sound escaping your lips as jake sucks harshly on your clit, stars appearing behind your eyelids.

“fuck, jake–” you glance down to see the man of your dreams perched between your legs, whimpering at the sight of him biting your inner thighs and gripping your legs tightly, holding them wide open for him to have full access. “you close, angel?” he smiles up at you, the vision of him with your wetness coating his mouth and chin pulling another noise from your parted lips. you nod quickly, “please, jake,” you plead, a request he responds to by continuing his assault on your already abused and leaking pussy, his tongue’s movements pulling a well deserved orgasm from your body, watching as your back arches up, pushing your core further into his mouth.

“jake!” you whine, fluid still gushing out, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure continues to pass over you in overwhelming waves. “‘s too much!”

“oh no it’s not, my sweet angel girl can take it,” jake argues before biting your clit.

“ahh!–” you scream, the sound bringing a smile to jake’s face, continuing to push you to overstimulation with his wet muscle’s motions against your pussy.

jake finally relents after you’re nearly in tears from the overwhelming sensations he’s putting your body through, bringing his face up to be level with yours, his clothed member pressing against your still dripping pussy, “you’re so pretty when you cry, baby.” he whispers with sincerity, capturing your lips in a quick, searing kiss before pulling away again to whisper, “i only ever want to see you cry because i’m making you feel good, okay?”

“okay, jake,” you whisper in response, smile tugging at the corner of your lips at your boyfriend’s insistence on treating you right until the end of time.

“no more crying unless it’s on my cock,” jake smirks, the words making you clench at your pure attraction and adoration for the man in front of you.

watching jake tug his pants down his legs makes you groan, staring down at the huge bulge pressing against his thin boxers. “stop teasing, jake,” you whine.

“baby can’t wait any longer?” you shake your head, watching as jake pulls his boxers off, the blushing, leaking tip of his cock making your mouth water. “ahh, what an eager girl. if you weren’t dripping onto my sheets right now i’d make you suck my cock. but i’ll be nice and give my baby what she needs.” jake rambles on as you can do nothing but stare at his length, drooling at the sight of it, knowing the stretch it gives you is always delicious, never fully adjusting to his generous size even after all the times you’ve been together.

jake breaches your entrance, letting just the tip sit inside your hole. you wiggle, trying to force him further inside, “patience, baby,” he scolds and you whimper at his strict tone coming out. “don’t want me to punish you, do you?” you shake your head. you know you could take a punishment, but right now you just want jake to hold you close as he makes love to you.

jake slowly slides in further, watching with hungry eyes as your hole takes him easily, “fuck, baby, i’m gonna keep you stuffed, my sexy ass girlfriend deserves to be filled up all hours of the day,” he babbles as he buries himself to the hilt, the snug fit of your walls filling his brain with even more delicious, dirty thoughts.

“mm– feel so full,” you mutter, watching jake’s face with adoration and love in your eyes, “thank you, jakey,” you whimper as he slides nearly all the way out, allowing just the tip to stay inside before pushing back in slowly, groaning at the feeling of your gummy walls sucking him right back in without protest, “god, this tiny pussy was made just for my cock.” you nod in response, seeing jake watching your face now before he’s wrapping his arms around your shoulders, pressing himself as close to you as he possibly can as he presses his face into your neck, sucking and biting at the junction between your throat and shoulder. jake tries desperately to leave marks, wanting to see them on your gorgeous skin when he wakes up next to you the following morning; little does he know you’ll wake him up with his cock in your mouth, mumbling around the dick that pushes an ache to your jaw about how you just wanted to help as you saw him sleeping with a tent in his boxers.

“need you closer,” you plead as jake rocks slowly in and out of you, love penetrating each thrust as he buries himself as deep as possible inside your pretty hole, the sensations pushing jake to the edge, the rubber band in his stomach begging to snap. “ugh–” you groan against jake’s lips as he captures them in a kiss, slow and sloppy but so full of want and need and unspoken pleas of never leave my side.

jake pulls away from the kiss, continuing to push into you with slow movements, wanting to feel every inch of your walls with each drag of his cock, holding his impending orgasm back behind gritted teeth, “tell me what you need, baby, wanna feel you cum all over my cock.”

“just need you,” you plead, eyes watering from the overwhelming presence of jake bearing his body to you, his mind and soul on display as he shows you how much he needs you with each loving action. “just need you,” you repeat, mind slipping away as he continues his movements, hips never tiring as he chases what he knows you need. jake removes one arm from your neck to snake down to your core, rubbing between your folds to gather up your own wetness before rubbing against your clit in the pattern he knows you love.

“fuck– jakey–” you groan, burying your head into the crook of his neck as he stares down at where the two of you meet, mind never getting tired of the visual of you taking him all inside, his length sliding in and out with ease. jake begins to fuck into you faster, nearly rutting against you as he chases the orgasm he knows is brewing in your gut. “come on, my angel girl, make a mess on me,” his words in your ears as you pull away from his neck to look at him. you nearly cry seeing jake meet your gaze; his delicate brown eyes meeting your own, need swimming in his gaze, “fuck!–” you gasp, beginning to babble words that don’t register in your mind as your high washes over you. jake watches your eyes fluttering shut, finally allowing himself to cum with you, pushing as deep as he can. jake watches as your breathing returns to normal, glancing down at the white ring surrounding his length, some of your cum mixture escaping and spilling everywhere. “god, baby, look at you. my perfect angel.” he traces his thumb along your cheek, watching a smile overtake your lips, knowing you’re utterly spent after only two orgasms. the day’s festivities have taken a toll on you, and he can see the tiredness in your eyes as they watch him with adoration.

you smile, “you don’t even know how happy you make me.”

jake cleans both of you off diligently, promising to throw the bedding in the wash tomorrow, knowing the cum would stain if you left it any longer. “i love you,” he breathes out, watching your face for a reaction at his sudden admission. you nearly cry as the words reach your ears, an overwhelming sensation in your gut. “you do?” you whimper, eyesight feeling blurring from the tears accumulating along your lashline. “i do, baby.”

“i love you, too, jakey.” he wraps you in a hug, neither of you caring that you’re both still naked, just needing to feel his hands holding you close to him. your voice is shaky and quiet as he holds you impossibly close, “i love you so much, you don’t even know.”

jake pulls back, holding your shoulders and placing kisses all over your face, on any spot he can reach, “you don’t know how happy i am to hear that, angel. you’ve made my life so much better.”

“now you have a built in study partner for life,” you tease, smiling at his continued onslaught of gentle kisses across your cheeks and nose, on your eyelids and on the corner of your mouth. “for life, huh?” jake teases, watching as your cheeks burn red at the realization of what you’ve said.

“don’t worry, pretty. now that i have you, i’m never letting you go.”

[satoruan]

CONJUGAL VISIT w/jujutsu Kiasen

Description: in which an inmate of a prison or jail is permitted to spend several hours or days in private with a visitors

More: Fem!Reader, explicit content, unprotected sex, some d/s dynamics with Toji, American prison system? (idk if other countries allow this lol?) 

☾ Ryomen Sukuna 

He's been in solitary for so long that you start to think you'll never see him again. He finally fixes his attitude enough to come in contact with others and eventually gets some visitation rights. Get used to having sex with him here because the guards inform you he isn't leaving for a long time.

 “s’too much Kuna!” You whine into the flat pillow but your boyfriend Sukuna could care less and keeps pounding into you from behind.

“Think I care slut? Been away from this pussy for months now, shut up and take what I give you.” He grits out, pushing deeper into your back with one hand, fisting your hair with the other. He’d be damned if you tell him what to do after all this time away. Do you know how spineless he had to act in order to get this visit, on his ‘best behavior’, desperate to finally be able to sink in some cunt after being surrounded by irrelevant men and guards with their heads up their asses?

“Feels s’good,” you moan when Sukuna hits your special spot. “I’m gonna cum!”

“That fast slut, it hasn't even been ten minutes” He chuckles, leaning down to bite your shoulder.

“Missed you, ‘Kuna, c-cant cum ‘out you.”

“Can’t do shit without me, bet you can’t even function out there without me,” He groans in your hair, you don't understand half of what he’s saying you just nod mindlessly and slam your hips back on his cock.

“Then cum on my cock, whore.”

☾ Gojo Satoru 

He's on a mission that requires him to go to jail. The prison warden is in on it, but that doesn't mean your boyfriend doesn't want to experience the "real deal." He convinces the warden to allow him weekly fuck sessions because he says he can't complete the mission without them.

“i-Im gonna cum ‘Toru!��� you whine aloud, to far gone to be embarrassed that your boyfriend is fucking you on scratchy sheets in a bed that probably hasn’t been thoroughly cleaned in years or the fact that multiple other girls have probably been in the same position you’re in with other inmates, on the same bed.

“So tight love, haven't you been using your dildos in my absence?’ he questions as he thrusts into your glistening cunt. Watching as you throw your head back, tears running down your cheeks.

“They’re too small ‘Toru!” You wrap your legs around his hard ass trying to get him as deep as he can.

“Aww, they can't make you cum as hard as I can, can they love?” he pouts against your swollen lips. You shake your head furiously, listening to the sounds your squelching cunt makes when he thrust back in, his balls slapping hard against your ass.

“Think i'll ask if I can get out early on good behavior. I can't leave my girl unsatisfied now.” He chuckles before diving his tongue into your mouth.  

☾ Toji Fushiguro 

Your mans got locked up again! This isn't the first time, nor will it be the last. You don’t know how he convinces the guards to allow you to visit time and time again, but you won't complain. You always miss him when he's gone every few months. The guard just sighs when he sees you’re here for visitation again

“You miss me, little girl?” he grins, sticking thick fingers in your already sopping cunt. “You know I always miss you when you’re gone, daddy.” You gasp, your back hitting the cold concrete wall behind you when Toji curls into your g-spot. 

“So so bad.” you whine, grinding your aching clit on his hard stomach, legs tightening around his slim waist when you find the perfect spot.

“You wanna cum little girl?” he asks while marking up your neck. He needs others to know you’re taken and if he can't be around you at the moment he’ll make it known another way.

“Yes Toji!” You scream.

“Yes what?” He stops his fingers.

“Yes daddy,” you whisper, moving your hips desperate to not lose the orgasm you were chasing. “Please make me come daddy, please!” 

“That's what I thought little girl” He says before continuing his movements and biting down on your heavy bottom lip.

☾ Choso Kamo

Too ashamed that he ended up in prison to allow you to visit him for a while. After much reassurance from you that you don’t look at him differently he finally comes out of his shell and makes friends. Get’s out early on good behavior.

“You think someones watching?” You mumble, looking back at the camera in the corner of the dark lit room.

“F-fuck baby, don’t fuckin’ stop,” Choso whines, gripping your waist, trying to make you bounce on his stiff cock. ‘Who cares if they are, baby? They won’t touch.”

You turn back around and grin down at your boyfriend “mmm, isn't that how you got in here in the first place Choso, beating up a man for touching me?” You start grinding on his cock again.

“Do anything for you, baby.” He moans gripping your waist when your tight walls start squeezing down on him, trying hard not to bust a nut so quickly.

“Yeah,” you moan out, feeling his cock twitch in you. “Now you’re stuck in here for months away from me.” You pout and claw at his chest when Choso starts to bounce you on his cock. God, if only he didn’t beat that man up you’d have this every night.

“Worth it.” He looks up at the camera, imagining the security guard looking down at your ass recoil when he slams you down on his cock

[alexiroflife]

sukuna would kill for you….

just a thought, mentions of assault, violence, but also fluff if you squint

… and not just in the cutesy, romantic way that held no weight to the promise. no, sukuna will plot and execute someone’s death for you over and over again. as easy as it has been to kill for centuries, it only becomes easier when he’s killing for the sake of your protection

it doesn’t take much to get sukuna riled up on your behalf. he’s quick to jot down names and addresses when you approach him with tears in your lashes, upset over harsh, misogynistic words from your boss or frustrated over an acquaintance who constantly antagonizes you for no reason. it takes one look into your sad eyes and he’s off on a manhunt

you normally advise sukuna not to kill people who have done little things to push your buttons, but that doesn’t stop him from rousing them up a little bit for good measure. he’ll track a rude encounter down, corner them in a secluded area, and beat their ass to a pulp until they’re begging for mercy. only then, when they plead for their life, does sukuna decide he is done and returns home to you. though the fools are beaten so badly they can hardly see out of their swollen eyes by the time he is done, he hasn’t technically killed them so it’s fair game

there is a time, however, when sukuna ignores your wishes and acts on his own accord, and that is when any guy decides to hit on you and not take no for an answer

you’re fuming when you march into his room, face red and fists clenched tightly at your sides. sukuna looks at you with a cocked brow, asking what the hell happened to get you all worked up. you tell him that on your way to his place from work, a man stopped you in your path to ask for your number. you had politely declined, but when you tried to walk past you could feel his hand grope your backside. you were quick to spin on your heel and land a stinging slap to his face that sent his had snapping into the other direction, and then you ran off to sukuna

the king of curses stares ahead and says nothing for moments that feel like hours, then stands abruptly. “what did he look like?” “where was he going?” “where was he coming from?” you barely get the chance to detail his features and the area the interaction occurred in when he’s cutting you off and telling you that he will take care of it. you catch his arm, eyes glossy as you plead him to stay with you and not get himself caught up in too much trouble. he can only promise the former, as he lets you take him to bed for the night

the next day, sukuna finds your assaulter with uraume’s assistance within twenty minutes. your description of his face in addition to the location you saw him hanging around allowed him to discover his LinkedIn profile, which took him to his place of work. sukuna waits outside of the building all day in dark sweats until he sees the culprit leave. he follows silently from afar until he arrives at his nearby apartment. he watches from an alley as the man disappears into the building and minutes later a light flicks on in the third room to the right on the second floor. sukuna knows he’s got him when his face appears in the window to close the blinds

sukuna waits for him to leave his apartment again to go out to grab food, then seizes his opportunity. he scales the building and climbs silently into the home through the window, then waits for his return in the dark. when the front door swings open, it takes your assaulter moments of shifting through the darkness before he finds sukuna’s shadowy figure sitting in his chair, red eyes aglow. he yelps in fear, reaching frantically to flick on the light. sukuna’s teeth grind together, the sight of this scum before him making his skin crawl

“w-who are you?! what are you doing in my house?” sukuna stands and the man stumbles back, cowardice revealing itself. he presses himself against his now locked door as sukuna approaches with a blank face and dark eyes, glaring down at him over his nose. “please! is it money you want? you can have it all, just- just don’t hurt me!”

christ, how pathetic. sukuna watches him tremble, eyes wide and lips quivering as he shivers in the corner of his own home. sukuna clicks his teeth. “what I want is for you to keep your fucking hands to yourself.” he snatches the man’s wrist up in his tight grasp, claws sinking into his skin. the man writhes in horror upon seeing the blood drawn from sukuna’s fingers digging into him. “why don’t we start by getting rid of them, hm?”

sukuna leaves the now blood spattered apartment unit the same way he came, brushing a gunk of brain matter from his sweatshirt with gritted teeth. he wants to come home to you, annoyed with his day out

when he shows up at your door, he lets you wrap your arms tightly around him in relief. his cheek rests on your shoulder boredly as he 'tolerates' your affection. when you ask him where he has been all day, he shrugs and says: “out” and leaves it at that

sukuna would kill for you any day with no hesitation but bides by the one rule you have to keep his hands clean when it comes to insignificant matters. yet when it comes to someone threatening your safety, comfortability, and body all in one, sukuna thinks it’s only right for him to break his promise to you and slaughter the pathetic lowlifes who even so much as think about laying a finger on you

sukuna’s love language is violence. while he may be poor at refraining from making you mad or gaging when to give you verbal affection, he will put somebody in the ground for you in a heartbeat

[quarterlifekitty]

The guys with a girlfriend who honestly.. kind of scares them

In different ways of course, but there’s still the underlying theme of her being rather unsettling

- @murderkittyz

I want you to know that this has been living in my mind. I love writing reader characters that are weird af and quite honestly unsettling

To be honest, writing Nikolai was really hard for this one, and I’m still not totally satisfied by it. I think he’s too willing to match your freak.

cw: some graphic descriptions of violence (not enacted, just threats/movie scenes etc)

Gaz is freaked out by how much you like the dark. You scare the shit out of him all the time because he’ll come home, thinking you’re not home because no lights are on in the house, and you’re so quiet— he is not proud to admit how many times he’s screamed when you suddenly said hi from a spot in the dark. And how whenever you get up in the middle of the night, you don’t turn the lights on. He asks you why, and you just say you don’t need them. Freaky.

There have been a handful of times where you were truly, extremely angry at Soap. And he almost pissed himself every single time because of how scary you get. Not because you scream or shake or slap his chest or anything, but because you don’t do any of it. Outside, you’re calm, you’re smiling. But it’s how you talk to him like he’s a child. “It’s okay. I’m just very, very angry at you right now”. It puts him on fucking edge. It creates this tension like you’re about to do something, that you’re gonna get back at him somehow in some way he’ll never see coming, but you don’t do anything. Absolutely fries his nerves.

Ghost is scared by how easily you tone switch, partially because he’s not really able to do so. The way you can be talking about someone from the base and say “he’s such a fucking prick bastard. I wanna rip off his balls and shove them down his throat far enough that he chokes”. And then the next day, you’ll greet the same guy like he’s an old friend. Extremely polite, pleasant, happy. It reminds Simon that he only sees the real you because you allow him that privilege.

Price is scared by your good memory. He’s used to being the one who remembers, the one who’s completely on top of things, the one who knows everything needed to know about everyone. But he’ll mention a colleague that you met once, for 10 minutes, years ago and you’ll ask “Is he still with Martha? She wanted to adopt a dog with him, a Siberian husky, and he seemed so scared of the commitment”. That’s scary. Makes him feel like he has a blind spot. Makes him wonder what you remember about him that even he doesn’t recall.

König is a difficult man to disgust and to scare. He’s seen a lot of things, and he himself is rather unsettling. But he’s scared and disgusted by some of your taste in movies. Things with long, painful torture scenes. All of the blood, flaying of skin, needles, ripping bones from flesh. It’s not so much that you enjoy these movies, but how you enjoy them. You lean against him, but not because you’re scared. You laugh in a way that you never do outside of watching a gorey scene, of someone crying on the floor with broken limbs. He shudders to imagine what you’d be like if you had his job.

Nikolai is unsettled by some of the fantasies you share with him, and how you convey them. Not things that you could really enact, just fantasies. “The other day I thought about being a mermaid— and you being a pirate that captured me to cut me up and sell my parts. But when you were about to cut me open you saw my cunt and decided to keep me as a fuckdoll instead, and fingered me right there with the butcher knife still on the table”. And you say it pretty nonchalantly. He’s honored that you trust him with these inner thoughts, and usually they turn him on completely, but it does creep him out just a little.

[joelsmochi]

every man gets his wish - joel miller

rating: E 18+ pairing: neighbor!joel x f!pornstar!reader summary: joel discovers his next door neighbor makes porn in her spare time. once she's confronted, she finds out that he has an interest in helping create content ;) warnings: not proofread, no physical descriptions other than reader having an unidentified tattoo on her thigh and nice peach, unspecified age gap (ur choice pookie), [m] masturbation, objectively joel is a bit of a perv, some awkward dialogue, literal porn. literally, degradation (they get a lil rough), f + m oral, smacking/spanking, daddy kink (slight ddlg vibes too), pet names and plenty of dirty talk YUM wc: 3.2k a/n: happy valentine's day smut sluts :D!

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He almost couldn’t believe his eyes, but he’d recognize that tattoo anywhere; his gaze followed the tattoo on the back of your thigh as you rode your cute little excuse for a toy.

Your soft moans and breaths echoing through the speakers on his laptop made his legs tremble against the old desk chair in his room while he fucked his fist.

He didn’t even think twice about the video he clicked on. He just knew he was horny and in need of quick release, so he typed his favorite keywords into Pornhub’s search engine and clicked the sixth video that only showed your ass. He realized he never noticed how juicy it was, and the oil or lotion or lube or whatever you fucking used to make it so goddamn shiny only emphasized how perfect it was.

Staring at the screen, he grasped the armrest in one hand and cock in the other, watching your puffy pussy cream all over the dildo. He matched the strokes of his hand with the rhythm of you bouncing. Slowing down, speeding up, only fucking the tip or grinding—he reenacted every movement of yours as best he could.

Even waiting until you were shaking and shouting the words, “I’m cumming—fuck yes! Just like that baby,” before cumming with you.

He watched the last few minutes of the video, watching you slap the dildo on your creamy cunt and play with it a little more along with standing up off of your bed and jiggling your ass in your hands. You giggled softly watching yourself. Then, much to his surprise, you sat down in front of the camera and smiled.

He wasn’t expecting you to reveal your face, so when the video ended he looked out of his bedroom window into yours. You were lying on the bed reading a book in the very spot where you recorded that filthy video.

You weren’t trying to tease him, he knew that, but it certainly felt that way.

♡

Joel had successfully managed to evade you for a week feigning work has been keeping him too tired for company. He found himself a touch jealous that the world had seen you naked before him despite your relationship being completely platonic.

You owed him nothing, not even an explanation, but he still felt weirdly possessive over you. He had a slight crush on you when you first moved in, but you were so much younger than he was, and in his eyes you'd want nothing to do with such an old man like himself. Not to mention the 'crush' was mostly just a lingering desperation to fuck you.

The discovery led him to do a deep dive into your profile on the website. There he discovered what seemed like a plethora of your content along with your affinity for degradation whether it was to yourself or towards others.

However he felt like he could finally breathe when he saw it was all solo content. You didn't even seem to entertain the idea of fucking someone else and uploading it. He even felt a sliver of hope that he could be your first real fuck on camera, but if he already struggled with confronting his own feelings towards you then how could he ever open up the opportunity to doing a video with you?

Joel was finally over avoiding you. He was ready to admit his discovery to you and go from there. He just prayed you wouldn't freak out.

"Hi, Joel!" You greeted after opening your front door. "What's been goin' on cowboy, I've been a little lonely on this side of town."

He followed your actions and sat on your sofa; as instant as a heartbeat you noticed he was off. Nervous? Worry? Anger? You struggled to read him.

"Somethin' the matter?"

He pulled himself out of his daze and looked at you, mouth hanging open like he couldn't manage the words. They just sort of... Spilled out.

"I found your porn on PornHub the other day and I don't care that you sell porn. I really don't. You're a grown woman and it's your body and you can do whatever you want. I just felt wrong not tellin' you."

Poor Joel.

You wanted to laugh at him, tell him there was no guilt in finding it or even watching it (because let's face it, you know he did).

"Okay," you said.

"Okay..."

"...Did you like it?" You asked after feeling a little uneasy with the silence.

"Hell yeah," he responded without hesitation making you giggle.

"Really?" You tittered, "I feel like it gets old."

This was his golden opportunity. At the very least he could pass what he was about to say off as a joke.

"I could always help with that," he chuckled.

You were clearly taken aback by his statement but still smiling. "I'm don't like sharing my money, Joel," you scoffed.

"So don't pay me," he said just as he leaned in a little closer. "Just fuck me."

You couldn't fight the blush that rose to your cheeks and he cockily took notice of it.

"Are you fucking with me?" You bashfully asked.

This made him lean in closer, close enough for you to smell him, close enough to feel his breath cascading over your collarbones, close enough to know that the dark look in his eyes wasn't mischief. It was desire.

His hands cupped your jaw so that he could bring your nose to his. You felt beautifully trapped between his hands, gaze, and aura. Suddenly you were filled with the desire to let him take you in any way he wanted to imagine.

"You know what my favorite video is?" He whispered, breath hitting your lips. "You were on your side, getting ready to cum, and you kept saying I belong to you until you were screaming. Damn near crying. Your little fucktoy was soaked. You had cum everywhere. But the best part was when you did start to cum. You couldn't even look away from yourself, you looked too damn good and you fucking knew it."

"I'd look even better with you inside of me," you told him.

He sharply inhaled before placing his needy lips onto yours, pressing his face in as much as he could.

You moaned into his open mouth, reaching for his tongue with your own. His hands roamed down your body until they reached your hips; showing off his strength, he lifted you into his lap and stood up not wanting to waste another second.

He tried to be careful on the stairs but his eagarity caused him to misstep and almost drop you; he left no room for embarrassment and quickly returned to running up with you giggling at the mishap.

Joel placed you on the bed standing with his jean-covered erection eye level with you. "Where's your camera?"

"Really wanna record it, hmm?" You said softly, running your hand along his hard length and motioning your head to the dresser behind him.

He grabbed it, muttering, "Wanna show everyone you're mine now," whilst turning the camera on.

You cocked an eyebrow up as if to say oh really. "Is that so? I'm all yours now?"

Smiling, he pointed the now recording camera at you. He cupped your chin and dragged a finger over the bright smile you wore. "You're all mine now, darlin'."

You giggled coyly then kissed his clad erection slowly with eyes that remained on the lens.

"Quit teasin'," he demanded with a playful lilt.

You hummed and fake pouted, pulling your face away to toggle his jeans. "There are nicer ways to ask," you teased.

"I'm not askin'."

"Oh? My apologies, daddy."

Your hand began pumping his thick cock when you said that, making his cock jerk hard within your tight grip.

"Daddy, huh?" He entertained; you seductively nodded. "S'pretty right here..."

"Where I belong," you hummed.

Then, you lined your tongue up with the base of his cock, just barely teasing his balls, and licked a stripe up his girthy shaft before twirling your tongue around his red hot tip. You carefully watched as his face contorted, ensuring it was with pleasure and looking for any sensitive spots he may have.

He seemed to favor your tongue on his cockhead so that's what you prioritized for a minute. You tongue kissed it as if it were his mouth. Licking and sucking and pulling it into your mouth feverishly.

His cock tasted manly and the length was just as impressive as him. You finally pulled more of him into your mouth allowing him the privilege of feeling your gummy cheeks swell and close around his dick.

A strained groan left his throat and his head fell back in pleasure. You pushed some of him into your throat to gag, earning more spit to pump the rest of his length with.

Joel was enamoured to say the least. Your wide eyes locked with his letting him know you loved sucking his cock as much as he did. Spit hung from your chin prompting him to reangle the camera to get the side view of everything.

He placed a hand on the back of your head and gently fucked your throat. You moaned, grabbing his ass and pulling him in for more pain, more suffocation.

Your throat gagged over and over again, imitating the feeling of your swallowing his dick. You loved how he shamelessly moaned, filling your ears with the sexy sounds of his calloused whimpers and content praises.

"Such a good girl, sucking daddy's cock like that," he groaned. "You like the taste, don't you? Such a good little slut." He smacked your jaw as encouragement to keep doing whatever magic you were fucking performing.

Once your throat began to get sore you pulled your mouth off of him, still opting to use your hands as he laid you down and rested on top of you, giving you the sloppiest kiss you'd ever received and assisting you with undressing.

He tasted his cock on your lips and chin and slurped up whatever precum and spit you had leftover. It felt nasty and passionate, with subtle moans spilling from both of you, and Joel couldn't get enough of it.

"Sit on my face," he breathed.

"Sit on your face?"

"Mmhm."

You set the camera up on the dresser looking at the screen to ensure it would capture everything before complying with his wish. He let out a muffled moan as soon as your wet pussy came in contact with his wet mouth.

On the camera, everything could be seen: your cunt glistened effortlessly and his tongue lapped up whatever your body poured for him. His scruff tickling your freshly shaved skin made you giggle and moan, little noises everywhere that sung like a melody in his ears.

Your clit tingled with a pressure that encouraged you to started riding his face. In response Joel's calloused hands came up to grip your ass and assisted your movements.

He squeezed one cheek almost too hard before spanking it a few times, your flesh easily bruising red and stinging deliciously.

"Joel, your mouth... Perfect," you blabbered. You were filled with bliss: your eyes were closed, fingers twirling playfully in his messy hair.

God, he licked you so fucking good. So messy but that's what made it effortlessly perfect.

"I—oh my God. Fuck! I love your fucking mouth," you moaned loudly.

"Mhm?"

You shuddered at the vibrations, hips stuttering into his licks and sucks even deeper.

"Yes, Joel!" You cried, "Fuck you're gonna make me cum... You're gonna make me cum!"

He spanked your ass even more at this, making both cheeks turn a bashful color and jiggle against his jawline.

With trembling thighs you managed all of your strength to hump him harder and faster. Doing whatever you fucking could to reach your climax.

"Yesyesyesyesyesyes!" You happily cheered as your juices began to relentlessly pour out of your squelching cunt and down his chin.

A satisfied smile rose to your face as your clit throbbed through the orgasm Joel had just given you. You slowed down on your own time allowing him to savor every last drop he'd be tasting for now.

You carefully removed your weight from his face, feeling more out of breath than ever. Meanwhile Joel sat up and swiped up some of your come with his thumb just before forcing it into your mouth and using his other hand to pinch out some that managed to get inside of his nose.

You were a tad embarrassed by his action but his subtle grin let you know that there was nothing more sexy than getting you so wet that it literally almost suffocated him.

Your mouth latched into him, cherishing the scruff surrounding his face. He went to lay on top of you again, your head now hanging off of the foot of the bed; he held your legs to your chest and slid into you easily making you whine at the slight burn that came with being stretched out.

With furrowed brows and an agape mouth, he incandescently moaned into the thick air while his thick thumb found your sensitive clit. You flinched and exhaled harmoniously at the combination of pleasure, enriched in the ecstasy he gave.

"You're so fuckin' tight, babydoll. Agh—almost can't take it," he taunted. "M'gonna have to ruin ya."

He gently released the grip of your legs and put his weight onto you. His arms slithered beneath you, wrapping around you in a way that made you feel safe. Then he kissed you, much more softly than before and rolled his hips back and forth. Your slick walls gripped him, trying to suck him in deeper.

His lips pulled off of you with a pop and he licked a thick line from your clavicle to behind your ear as if he magically knew it was your sweet spot.

You giggled and shivered at the ticklish feeling, enduring it until it started to feel more sensual. He felt you relax within his touch and took it as opportunity to nibble the spot, biting it just enough to hurt a little bit.

Between his movements and your sweaty bodies sticking together you felt almost useless; you were used to doing the work, giving instead of taking. But it felt too good to stop now.

When you clawed at his back he pushed himself up and started slamming into you. You gasped, digging your nails into his arms.

"Love those pretty little sounds you're makin' f'me," he hummed, pushing his hand into your exposed neck and gripping it. "You like that? Hm? Ohh, you fucking love it. Look at you."

You raised a hand and smacked his cheek lightly—your way of saying fuck you considering his grasp of you. He reciprocated, landing a firm smack to your face and earning a smile in return.

"Fuckin' brat needs to be put in her place—"

You shook your head attempting to hum out a no.

The hand he had around your neck reached up to squish your cheeks so that he could come eye to eye with you. "God, fuck. I can't even punish you when you look at me with those pretty eyes," he said defeatedly. "Look at you, babydoll. You're so fuckin' tight. Best fuckin' pussy ever. So wet, just f'me."

"All yours, Joel. I'm all yours."

"Yeah?" He cooed. "You're all mine?"

"Fuck yes!"

"Cum for me, baby. Yeah, cum on my cock," he pleaded, "get it nice and wet for me darlin', need you to cum for me."

Between his scruff voice and brutal thrusts you found yourself falling into another orgasm, everything around you ceased to exist.

The world went quiet aside from Joel's encouragements and praises; you could feel the blood pumping throughout your body, your heart punching against your chest, and your body molding to the twists and curves of Joel's body.

As you squeezed and scratched and begged him for more more more you felt the tension between your legs dissolve passionately into a sear so strong you felt it warm and burning the flesh along your belly.

Joel watched your chest rise and fall with your tits bouncing to the rhythm of his thrusts. He rode you out until the very end of your high before picking you up and sitting on the edge of the bed with you straddling him.

Feeling even more horny and turned on than before you wasted no time and began bouncing on his painfully hard dick.

He was fighting his climax, needing to feel you wrapped around him as long as he could take.

"You feel so fucking good, daddy," you whined, "want your cum."

"You want me to cum inside you babydoll?" He pouted.

"Yes Joel. Want you to fill me up..."

"Gonna ruin that pretty pussy," he grunted, "gonna make you mine. This pussy belongs to me now, doesn't it?"

He listened to you whimper and weep and whine, coaxing you through it all while offering a few pops to your ass and thighs for encouragement.

You watched him lay down, arms folded behind his head to enjoy the little show you were putting on for him. Hair bouncing and flaying everywhere while you rode him with a bobbling head—the view from where he was looked pretty fucking perfect.

Your movements halted and you managed to turn around on his cock while keeping it inside; hearing a strained gurgly moan come from him as a result, you mercilessly began riding him again giving him the best view of your ass as it clapped against the peak of his belly.

"Good fuckin' slut," he slapped your tatted thigh and watched intently for a moment or two. "Good girl, mhmm. Doin' such a perfect job on daddy's cock."

Joel then sat up and reached for your clit, rubbing the sweetest little circles on it and using his free hand to turn your face to kiss him.

Reverse cowgirl had always been his favorite position, but he can't remember a time or even a moment where it felt this fucking good.

"You're gonna make me cum, baby," he whispered with his forehead leaning against yours. "Gonna make me fuckin' cum. Tha' what you want, baby? Want your daddy to fill this fuckin' pussy up?"

He gave your clit a mean smack but it only made you go faster.

"Need you to cum! Fucking—ohh! Cum for me, please daddy. Want you to f-fill me up!"

Joel began thrusting to meet you halfway, and his eyes stayed locked with yours as he muttered a string of profanities.

"Oh shit. Ohfuckohfuckohfuck. Fuck yes!"

He painted your pussy with his hot, sticky ropes of cum, moaning your name over and over with fluttering eyes and a tight grip on your hips. He thrusted a few more times before pulling out and meeting you with a few more soft kisses as a thank you.

You felt his cum slowly pouring out of your swollen cunt, trailing down his softening cock and on the sheets. You two stayed like that for a while, savoring the moment and taking your time.

A while later while he was cleaning up between your legs he said, "You better upload that video."

"You weren't joking?" You scoffed, wearing a smile.

"I wasn't joking," he said contently.

That night once he had fallen asleep in your bed, you decided to upload the full video uncut with the perfect title...

My DILF Neighbor Comes Over For A Creampie ♡

346K Views | 93% | 16 Hours Ago | ♡ 532

[pedrosyouknowwhat]

Lamb to the slaughter

Summary: Your husband, the Great General of the Roman Empire, wishes for you to perform your wife duties

Pairings: Dark! Marcus Acacius x Priness! Reader

Warnings: Non con, marital rape, arranged marriage, abusive and toxic dynamics, choking, riding, slight spanking, verbal abuse, forced breeding, breeding kink, I want to make this a series, reader is Geta and Caracalla's sister but there isn't any physical description, size kink, Acacius is just huge, reader is afab, legal age gap (Reader is in her 20s, Marcus is in her 40s)

"The people of Rome are hungry."

You bellowed at your brother, glaring at him amidst the climax of your fight. He wouldn't listen; Geta had been as stubborn as he was as a child. He stood before you, draped in fine silks and gold, infuriated that you had disturbed his feast to talk about these matters.

"The people of Rome wouldn't be hungry if we had enough land to import food from." He grunted at you. "Our main aim is to conquer these lands in order to have so, is that clear, my dear sister?"

You laughed at his excuses. "You greedy little bastard, you could have the entire world and still find something to blame for your poor governing."

He glared at you, fingers twisting madly as he stepped, slowly, towards you. The slap resonated through out the empty corridor, drowning the sounds of the party just at mere meters away. Before you could place your hand in your aching cheek, his ringed fingers covered your neck, quickly cutting the air.

"I believe I have granted you too many liberties, my dear sister." He whispered with trembling calmness. "I believe you forget that if you eat, it is because I feed you, if you breathe, it is because I allow you to, and if you speak...it is because I haven't cut off your tongue yet."

You attempted to remain stoic, but the lack of air brought tears to your eyes. He watched you, grinning slightly from your position, before he let go.

"I have decided your fate;" He smirked, decisively. "I am to find a man to marry you. That will tame you."

As you gasped for air, your eyes widened, fearing whichever man your brother may choose for you. And you were right to fear it.

Two days after the fight, you continued praying that your brother forgets the threat, as he most usually does; however, as General Marcus Acacius returned from Numidia, with ships filled with fresh slaves and land conquered, the gods have decided to frown upon you.

You watched as he was paraded into the main palace in dashing white robes, certainly a spectacle fit for a Hero. He reached the steps as people chanted his name, and went directly to talk with the Emperors, not sparing even a glance at you, sitting along with your brother's pet monkey, Dundus. You caught a whiff of his scent; eucalyptus, mint and leather.

You were busy observing your nails as a shadow casted itself upon you, and you glanced to see Geta and the General standing right in front of you. You had never seen Acacius so close, the battle scars smearing into his skin, the streaks of grey in his dark curls, and his piercing dark eyes as he observed you back.

"Do you think you can handle her, my General?" Caracalla questioned, perching on his shoulder. Your brows furrowed in confusion, before it all doomed on you.

"No!" you whispered, to no avail.

"If I can handle Barbarians from the other side of the sea, I think I can handle a spoiled princess." Acacius replied, his eyes wandered down the neckline of your dress, which he could see as he was towering before you. You couldn't do more than stare into those eyes as your brothers laughed, demonically.

After that evening, you had done everything in your power to postpone the wedding. Ditching tailoring appointments, sending back any flower arrangements proposed and avoiding Marcus Acacius at all costs. But you couldn't miss the games thrown in his honor.

His presence emanated an aura of masculinity and ferociousness as the Colosseum chanted his name; you smelled him before you saw him, eucalyptus, mint and leather. You were taken a back when he sat next to you, being too immersed in thought as Geta and Caracalla announced your matrimony.

You watched as a group of slaves was tossed into the arena; as they fought and as one of them was notoriously more skilled than the others; Hanno, he was called. You wished for a second that your brother had decided to marry you to one of them instead, perhaps they'd be more discreet about staring at you, unlike Acacius.

The wedding day came, a sunny morning with games planned to be celebrated in the afternoon as an honor. Acacius stood in the altar, clad in white like the day of his parade, and you couldn't help but wonder about how little you knew about him; not a single word had he crossed with you. His face was stern, not a single ghost of a smile on his face. The evening went by quickly, quicker than you expected, and soon enough you were in his Villa, the place were you would now reside.

You barely noticed the decor of his chambers, the paintings and sculptures, the soft wool cushions and the white and crimson sheets. He walked in confidently, as one walks into his room, and you stood, long white robes and golden embellishments, looking the most gorgeous you ever felt, but the fear was overwhelming.

What did he expect of you, certainly? you were well educated, but no one had ever explained you what actually happened in a wedding night. You had some idea, a naive concept, but as Acacius disrobed himself, any idea of what to do slipped your mind.

He was soon standing in all his naked glory, and your lips parted. His shoulders were broader than you have seen, a muscled stomach scarred with evidence of his battle experience, thick thighs, and a cock that slowly grew before your eyes.

"Why are you stilled clothed?" He inquired; the first words ever directed to you. As you stumbled with your words, he neared you dangerously. You felt the warmth emanate from his body as he unwrapped your dress from your body.

"Wait," you pleaded, tugging at the dress. "I have never been with a man."

He looked at you; and for the first time, he snickered.

"You think that will change anything?" He questioned, taking the silk from your hands; he ripped his way through the fabric until you were bare, only the gold on you. His hands, rough and calloused, palmed your stomach, smoothing the skin as if inspecting you. Tears welled up in your eyes.

His fingers smoothed over your nipples, making you squirm, he observed and then he pinched them, enticed as you let out a yelp. One hand trailed down your abdomen, pointer finger touching your skin until he reached your mound; tears now poured down your cheeks. His finger graced your slit, feeling sudden wetness you haven't anticipated. His scent, eucalyptus, mint and leather.

"Have you ever rode a horse?" He asked, intrigued. You nodded, brows furrowing in confusion. "It would be pretty much like that."

Before allowing you to respond, his hand wrapped around your forearm, pulling you behind him as he made your way to the bed. Any effort against it was futile, he would easily overpower you.

As he laid against the pillows, still gripping you, he nodded at his cock, now fully erect. You stared in awe, as even the veins on it looked huge; his tan skin melting into the red hot tip, weeping precum, standing proudly enough, you thought that if could tear you apart, reach your guts.

"Put it in." He demanded, because he couldn't just rape you like a barbarian, he had to force you to do it. You breathed, trying to recollect any previous knowledge as to how to do it. Impatiently, he grabbed a handful of your leg, forcing you to straddle him. His thighs were so wide, the stretch from your legs hurt.

You let out a breathe and grabbed it, careful of hurting him in fear of his anger. Angling his cock with your entrance, you attempted to push it in, only securing a searing pain. As more tears sprouted of your cheeks, Acacius spat on his hand and pushed yours away, pumping his cock with slick. His fingers then found your cunt, and his grip on your arm tightened. Wet with his saliva, he circled the spot that sent waves of pleasures towards your stomach. Wetness grew down there, and he slipped one of his thick fingers.

You gasped from the sudden intrusion, feeling as he pumped the digit, stretching you for him. Before you could feel pleasure building up, he had taken his hand and lined his cock. Your other hand fell to the middle of his chest, seeking support as he stretched you with his mushroom top. Every ridge and vein took its place inside of you, forcing your mouth agape. He fed your cunt slowly, inch by inch until you felt as full as you could possibly be. Your crying had seized as your body processed the new feeling, of being split open.

You felt him stop, nudging at a curve deep inside of you, and you felt a slight relief that it was over before his hands went to your hips, forcing you on the half his hand had preciously been wrapping around. Quick and rough, you doubled over, attempting to find a spot were it wouldn't press against you like it did. Acacius grunted in pleasure at how your walls fitted tightly around him.

"Was that so hard, foolish girl?"He barked, and you looked at him between the strands of your hair that had fallen away from your laurel wreath crown. His hand slapped your ass, leaving pain the size of his huge hand. "Move."

You physically couldn't; shaking your head, you tried to plead for him to stop, but all he did was seize your neck with his hand, pressing similarly to your brother months before. He gave you a warning look, eyes glossy from pleasure, and you attempted to move, guided by the grip on your hip.

"There you go,"He groaned. "Didn't think you could take it."

You attempted to keep the pace of his hand, staggering. Through your droopy eyes, you could see his face illuminated by the candle light; a scar across his cheek that didn't maim his handsome face, the grey in his scruff and his hands moved you to fuck him, his brown eyes were closed in pleasure as his cherry tainted lips parted, allowing grunts and moans to escape. You felt his desire as he increased his speed, his cock burning into you in every thrust as he commanded you with his hands. He seemed to be fighting his pleasure, his eyes rolling back every now and then as he attempted to keep his gaze on you.

"That's it," he guided, voice gruff. "You look much prettier like this."

Your gaze, that had been stuck to his chest in effort to advert his eyes, rose to look at him. Oh, he was entranced by the way your crown had knocked to the side due to his maneuvering, the way tears glistening in your blushed cheeks, and how small your hands looked pressed into his chest. And finally, how your cunt pulsed around him every time he slammed you down onto his hips along with the sweet whimpers you emitted.

His hands departed from the place they have stuck to, roaming to cup your ass for more support. You gasped as he effortlessly raised you off his cock, letting it slip out with a faint "pop". Without a word he tossed you to the side of the bed.

"Enough of my amusement," he groaned as your face slammed into the pillows. He was everywhere as he positioned you on all fours, immense chest stuck against you and hands arranging your limbs. His hand fell across your cheek, igniting fire in his touch. "I am going to fuck a heir into you, stay still."

He said it with such easiness in his command that you knew he was used to giving this type of orders.

"No no please," You attempted, thrashing around to persuade him, but his cock was already lined between your legs. "Please, please don't-"

The scruff of his chin scratched against your neck a he bottomed inside of you, quieting you definitively. You could feel him in your guts, balls sticking to your clitoris due to the wetness he had caused.

"What can make a foolish little girl like you to behave more than carrying a General's heir?"

He began his assault on your core, one hand grasping the hair on your nape as he fucked you as a animals do.

"Your brother told me-"He grunted between thrusts, allowing himself to go inside, all eight inches of him. "You doubted his reign."

As you wept into the pillows, moans escaping your mouth, against your honor. He halted, hand pressing against the back of your neck.

"Answer me." He pressed, pushing your face even deeper into the pillows. "Did you?"

"Y-yes." You choked out, cock so deep inside you couldn't string a coherent word.

"Good." He admitted, to your surprise, continuing his pace. "Your brother is a foolish man; proved it himself when he gave you to me."

Your knuckles wrapped around the bed sheets, attempting to suppress the waves of pleasure that erupted as he picked a strong pace. Your cunt became wetter and wetter as it clenched, unwillingly, around him.

"What can a war torn general do to a tiny princess like you?" He mused between his sighs and groans. "Foolish Emperor."

As he said the last part, he rested once again his chest to your back, both covered in sweat from the heat of both of your bodies. His arm, strong and rough, wrapped itself around your lower stomach, holding you in place as his lips sucked your neck. The closeness felt awry, even if you were newly weds.

"Once I have fucked a child into you, no one could deny it's place in the throne."

That took you by surprise, but your eyes were closing off from exhaustion and your lips were too busy whimpering from the hot fire he had ignited in your core.

"Oh," he chuckled against your salty skin, dipping his other hand in between your body, tracing a path until he found that spot. His pointer and middle pressed against it, recollecting moisture from your pussy before circling it slowly. You felt the pressure build, as if you urgently needed to go to the bathroom. "a gentlemen as myself needs to make a girl cum before painting her insides. How could I forget that?"

He teased, managing a rhythm with his hand and hips. You felt a knot building right where he was rubbing, spreading through your nerves to make your whole body become limp. You let him fuck you, body tired and sore and unable to pose any more resistance other than gentle whimpers, swallowed by his loud groans, the sound the bed made against the floor and the squelching of his cock drilling into you. You were too gone to process any more than the pleasure washing over your body; pain bloomed, but in the most exquisite way as you felt yourself cling around the thick thing drilling into you.

"There you go," He cooed, closing his eyes as he felt it too. "there, there..."

Your mouth suddenly opened agape, as a hoarse whine left your throat and you felt it. You came undone so easily, beneath him.

He attempted to last, at least a few minutes more, prolong his pleasure, but the way you looked over your shoulder at him, as if attempting to understand what just happened, drove him wild.

It took him three final thrusts to come; You could count them as each was more punishing and rough than the previous, despite being hammered into you quickly. With a final grunt, you felt his burning hot cum pour into your insides, and his huge body collapsed on top of yours. You waited patiently for him to pull out, but as a child smitten with his favorite toy, he rolled over and continued to hold you close, hot breathe fanning in your neck.

He panted, regaining his breathe, before he actually spoke to you, who was quietly laying in his bicep. You felt tears spring from your eyes again.

"You will birth me an heir to claim the throne after your brothers have fallen."

Marcus Acacius had spoken.

[gloomwitchwrites]

I absolutely love your stories they’re so amazing! Can I please request the task force and pranking them by telling them a guy did your Brazilian wax

Thank you! I can't take all the credit. I might be the writer, but the Imagines Series couldn't be what it is without all the amazing ideas people have submitted. I'm honestly blown away by the amount of creativity and ideas sent my way. My inbox is full of wonderful requests, and while it's going to take me a bit to get to them all, I'm eager to complete them!

The amount of prank requests I've been getting has been so fun. Not just this one, but telling mom to shut up, and the premium air prank, etc. All of these make me giggle and have been a blast to work on. Thank you so much for sending this in!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, established relationship, pranks, non-descriptive nudity

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John briefly licks the pad of his thumb before counting out the appropriate amount of pound notes.

“This enough?” he asks, presenting it to you.

It’s more than enough. “Plenty. Thank you, John.”

He leans forward a bit, and you eagerly greet him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Drawing back, you give him your best smile. But beneath the grin is a trick.

You want to mess with him a bit.

“I have a new waxer,” you shrug, adding the cash to your wallet. “Cheryl put in her notice.”

Cheryl did not put in her notice. That woman probably won’t retire until she dies.

John inclines his head, already turning away. “That’s too bad. You liked her.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, grabbing your purse. “They’ve put me with someone new. A Mark? Mike? No—Marcus? I think.”

John freezes. He slowly turns back, cheeks bright red. “What?”

“It starts with an ‘m’,” you muse.

“Your new waxer is a man?”

“Yes,” you shrug. “And?” John’s face resembles a beet. “Everything good?”

“Where does Cherly work now?”

“John—”

He grabs his phone from his pocket and starts tapping away at it. "I want to know if she accepts walk-ins."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle's hand slowly runs over your newly waxed skin. "Look at you. So soft and smooth." His touch makes you shiver.

"You paid for it," you murmur.

"I did," smiles Kyle, head dipping.

His tongue makes contact, and you release a moan. It’s slightly distracting, but not enough to detract from you poking at him.

“Had a new waxer,” you sigh as Kyle goes in for another taste.

“Did you?” he asks absently, more interested in your new smoothness.

“A man, actually. Undergoing training. There were two of them in the room.”

Kyle's head snaps up. "What?"

"Why'd you stop?" you whimper.

"There were two men that waxed you?"

“No, Kyle. Just one.”

A series of emotions pass over Kyle's face. His mouth opens. Closes. And then his hand forms a fist, fingers flexing and relaxing as he mulls over something.

"Everything okay?" you ask, suddenly worried.

“Can’t be that hard.” Kyle pushes away from the couch and reaches for his phone. “Or expensive.”

“What can’t? Kyle. What are you talking about?”

You lean forward and see him adding a waxing kit to his online shopping cart.

“No,” you say firmly. “You’re not putting hot wax anywhere near my vagina.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

"Oh, what's this?"

Johnny's hands are on your thighs and then beneath your skirt in a moment.

"Johnny!"

"Is this for me? You don't have to. You know I like a good adventure through the woods."

"Johnny!" you say again, slapping his arm playfully as his fingers lightly squeeze, making your squirm in his grasp.

"Was this on my dime?" he asks.

"Maybe."

"Oh, aye. Am I gonna find an unknown charge?"

"With a tip. A large tip. My waxer deserved it. He did a good job."

"Oh, they—he?"

"Yes. That a problem?"

Johnny's hands don't retreat but he's staring at you—hard. You arch an eyebrow and he finally speaks. "Your waxer is a man?"

No.

"Yes."

Johnny nods and then he leans in, lowering his voice. “You’re taking the piss.”

“I’m—”

“I saw your location. I checked it out. They don’t have a single male employee in that place.”

Your face grows hot.

Johnny’s hands squeeze a bit harder, and then he lands a brief smack against the curve of your ass. “Lying to me, love?” Johnny tsks. He palms the curve of your ass where it stings. “Suppose I should punish you.”

“Maybe you should.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You reject the call and clutch your phone to your chest. You've messed up. Royally. Pranking Simon is always a terrible idea.

The texts were just a tease. Just a way to push Simon’s buttons.

I have a new waxer.

I thought it would be one of the other ladies.

But no!

It was a guy!

Your phone buzzes again and you nearly throw it across the room. It’s Simon. You decline the call. Everything is quiet for a few brief seconds before a text message from him comes through.

Answer your phone.

You click out a reply.

I'm in the car!

His reply comes instantly.

You're at home. I know your location.

Another incoming call. This one you answer.

"Simon,” you say flatly.

"What location did you go to?" he asks, voice rough with tension.

"Why?" you counter.

"What's his name?" he snaps.

"I know what you're doing, Simon.”

You always forget just how deep his possessive streak goes.

Silence. Then, "I just want to talk."

"Simon.”

He growls your name in warning.

"You don't need to go there. Just...come home. You can see the results for yourself."

He sighs. "I'll be there in ten. Be ready for me."

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